Harry Potter and the Champion of Hyrule
by DragonWolfStar
Summary: Their lives after Calamity weren't easy, but they were making it work. But disaster strikes when monsters pour through an old weakness between worlds, and the Master Sword is the only thing that can stop them. Only, when Link goes to combat this new threat, he winds up somewhere he should never have been. Harry could never have guessed what his fifth year would bring.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yo, long time no see! So I realize I have a million other things I could be writing, but this came out in a two week binge session instead. And by 'this' I mean the entire story, so for those of you who are familiar with my old writing and wondering when this will be abandoned... don't. It's done. All that's left is cleaning up typos and posting, which I will be doing twice a week.

That said, this will not have the most involved plot; it's more like one of those simple "Character A interacts with World B" kind of stories I said I'd never write. I'm still fond of it though, and I hope you enjoy it too.

This is child timeline for BOTW, by the way, for reasons that are actually important plot-wise. I'm not going to argue over this - I don't care which timeline BOTW actually belongs to, and won't until an official statement comes out.

EDIT 3/13 - typo fixes

* * *

It all happened so fast. One second Harry had been arguing with Dudley, furious enough to just about forget the underage restrictions on casting magic. The next the streets had gone black, stars blotted out by an unnatural darkness. The air chilled, and every breath puffed out in clouds of mist he couldn't see. Harry had felt a surge of fear then, a rising dread at the sensations that were as familiar as they were horrifying.

Dementors could not be in Little Whinging.

Dudley had succumbed to terror, and in his panicked flailing had knocked Harry to the ground. Holly and phoenix feather tumbled into the dark grass, and Harry had the brief, frantic thought that _this was it_. Voldemort wouldn't need to kill him, because his idiot cousin would have done the job for him.

A flash of warm light burst through the darkness. Harry gasped, hand reflexively rising to shield his eyes from the powerful glow. Another flash, a pale silver-blue streak, cut through the black, and just like that it was over.

The rattling breaths ceased. Starlight blazed back to life with the electric pop of streetlamps turning back on. Harry gaped at the abrupt loss of danger, hands trembling with adrenaline as he snagged his wand out of the grass.

What was going on?

Shadows stirred. Green eyes snapped to the movement on the ground, catching sight of tattered black fabric stirring in a warm breeze. The dementors' cloaks, he realized dimly, even as they dissolved into the summer wind. And then they were gone, nothing left of the monsters but a bad memory.

A low moan caught his attention and Harry's focus shifted to the third person he hadn't known was there. The slender figure clad in blue panted harshly, held upright only by his grip on a pulsing light in the shape of a sword.

"A-are you alright?" he choked out, only for the figure to sway alarmingly. The sword fell with a clang as its owner collapsed limply on the street. Harry didn't hesitate. He ran forward, giving the stranger a gentle shake when he saw no injuries. There was no response.

"Right," Harry breathed shakily, distantly aware that his cousin was shaking uselessly a few meters away. They weren't far from the Dursley's, but Harry was alone with two more-or-less comatose people and a glowing sword. He hadn't a mobile - the Dursley's would never have allowed it - and Hedwig was wasn't here. Who knows what would happen if he were to use a spell to send for help? Not that he was sure what good it would do...

Wait. Harry's gaze drifted back to the sword. It was obviously magic. Okay. First order of business was to hide the glowing sword from muggle eyes. After that... well, he wasn't sure.

He reached for the hilt. And promptly spit out a curse, withdrawing stinging fingers. The sword pulsed once, faintly, as though in warning.

Harry frowned, the frustrations of the night returning all at once, building on the leftover confusion and fear. "Well I can't just leave you there!" he snapped.

As though in response, the light pulsed once more.

He blinked. Well, it wasn't unheard of for magical items to have a form of sentience. Feeling a little stupid, and still quite cross, Harry tried again. "Can I at least put you away?" It was hard to miss the large violet and gold sheath strapped to the stranger's back. When no response seemed forthcoming, he added, "You let that guy hold you, I'm assuming you want to stay with him."

Finally, the sword dimmed, glow gentling as though in agreement. Hesitantly, Harry reached out again. This time there was no sharp sting, though Harry felt abruptly tired, as though the sword was more of a burden than its slight weight.

The hilt pulsed hotly, just shy of burning, and Harry hastily slid it into its sheath.

"Harry!"

He started, standing and whirling to face - "Mrs. Figg?"

* * *

Harry stared down at the stranger curled up in his bed. Mrs. Figg hadn't protested his being here, though she'd not seemed to know what to do with him either. She had seen what had happened at least, and the boy - for that's what he was; he looked startlingly young - had without a doubt saved Harry's life.

By killing two dementors. A feat which was by all accounts unheard of. Eventually the squib had decided to leave the situation in Dumbledore's hands, helping Harry drag both the stranger and his cousin to the Dursley's doorstep.

She'd angrily muttered something about the boy apparently being more trustworthy than some bloke named Mundungus, for all that was worth, before swanning off. Harry hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, and had been left to deal with his relatives alone.

That had been last night. Harry had little to do but wait, as he'd sent Hedwig off with a trio of letters and the stranger remained frustratingly unconscious. Aside from his presence, the only sign that anything at all had even happened was an unusually stern letter from Sirius telling him not to leave the Dursley's house.

The stranger shifted in his sleep, wheat colored locks spilling over delicate features and framing long, pointed ears. Like Tolkein's elves, Harry thought idly, rather than anything he'd seen in the wizarding world. The bright blue tunic and leather gear didn't help that impression, looking more like clothes worn hundreds of years ago than anything worn today, by muggles _or_ wizards.

Needless to say, Harry was practically burning with curiosity. But the stranger was still asleep, and Harry hadn't been able to either wake him or examine him particularly closely. (After settling him on his bed, Harry had thought about removing his gear - It looked uncomfortable, in particular the circlet of gold laurel leaves camouflaged by stranger's hair - but the sword had pulsed in a distinctly threatening manner every time he got close. He'd given it up as a bad job and settled in to wait.)

The stranger shifted again, and blinked. Harry straightened from his place slouched at his desk, hyper-focused in a way he hadn't been in days. _Finally_ he'd get some answers.

Blue eyes opened, hazily meeting Harry's gaze. The stranger sat up, shook his head once to clear it, and let his hand rise to the hilt of his sword, as though seeking comfort.

Foreign syllables tumbled out of his mouth in a sharp, incomprehensible question.

Or not.

* * *

The next two days were _weird_. Harry had alternated between bemusement and outright frustration as the stranger seemed to take his situation in stride. Despite the absence of common language, they quickly managed to understand that neither meant the other harm, and that the stranger was welcome (by Harry, at least) to stay while they figured things out.

After establishing that he'd get nothing further from Harry, he'd settled his hand on the hilt of his sword once, meditated for about an hour, a distressed expression flashing across his face for the span of a heartbeat. Following _that_ , a steady calm had settled on his features like a cloak, and the wizard had yet to see another emotion so much as cross the stranger's mind. Harry could only envy such composure.

The boy simply flitted in and out of the house that first day, returning with no visible gains each time. Harry suspected he was returning to the area the dementors had appeared in hopes of finding _something_ , but the wizard had ultimately decided against following. Not only had Sirius advised against it, but the stranger was far too good at appearing and disappearing at random. One second he'd be there, the next he'd be gone. Harry was certain he heard footsteps coming from the roof at least once, and was reasonably sure keeping up with the blond would be impossible without a good tracking spell and a broom.

The next day - and probably the entire night; Harry wasn't sure the stranger had slept - the blond had spent his time vexing his relatives by examining the house with the same amount of curiosity Arthur Weasley might have had. Perhaps more, as it was clear he didn't know what much, if any, of the technology was for, and wizards at least had things like radios and stoves. Although after he'd figured _that_ device out, Harry was quite sure he'd never eaten so well - or so much - in his life. Where, exactly, the elfin boy had gotten his hands on things like venison and acorns around the Dursleys was a complete mystery, but Harry didn't really care as he got far too much enjoyment reaping the benefits of those particular acquisitions. Even better, the Dursley's hadn't dared touch any of it, despite being offered by the _way too nice_ stranger more than once.

It was amusing and baffling in turns, but it couldn't quite distract from situation he'd appeared in. No reply to his missives had been forthcoming, and Harry could feel his frustrations mounting at the fact that he was still being kept in the dark, despite being attacked by dementors, of all things, from the supposed safety of Little Whinging.

All of that meant that Harry might have felt happy about the group of wizards and witches appearing in the Dursley's house that night, but his irritation at their lack of warning and dubious entrance far outweighed any good cheer.

"So what's this we've heard about a strange wizard helping you out, Harry?" Lupin asked. Moody glowered suspiciously. Harry glowered right back. They weren't bothering to answer any of his questions just yet and it's not as though Harry had anything concrete to tell them anyway.

As though on cue, the boy slunk out of the shadows to stand at Harry's side, hand resting warily at the hilt of his sword. The only one who didn't startle was Moody, whose wand was notably out and ready. The electric blue of his false eye was fixed firmly on the stranger.

"Ah," Lupin blinked. He stepped forward, hands raised non-threateningly as he maneuvered between the volatile wizard and wary youth. "Arabella said you'd been having trouble understanding each other," he said, tone soothing. Harry wondered how on earth they could have known that, then felt an immediate a jolt of anger at the thought they'd been spying on him still, these last few days.

Lupin carefully raised his wand. "May I?" Harry could practically feel the tension radiating from the boy and forcefully relaxed his expression. "It's alright," he said lamely, hoping his reassurance would be enough to defuse the boy's wariness enough for whatever it was Lupin was about to do. "You can trust him."

Blue eyes cast a long look at Harry's open expression before the stranger nodded, minutely relaxing his stance. Lupin smiled, the tired lines of his face softening slightly. " _Eadem linguae_ ," he enunciated carefully, wand flicking in a complicated motion before stopping just in front of the boy, a soft flare of violet light startling him into tightening his grip on his blade.

Lupin immediately backed away, hands once more up in a calming gesture. "There we are," he said easily. "Can you understand us now?"

The blond blinked in surprise. "...Yes," he replied hesitantly, right hand finally settling at his side, though he kept a wary eye on the surrounding witches and wizards. Harry wasn't surprised when he said nothing further. Aside from that first, demanding question when he'd woken up, he hadn't actually said anything else. If he didn't know better Harry would have said it was like living with a ghost.

The assembled witches and wizards traded glances before Moody rolled his eyes and barked, "What's your name, boy?"

Blue eyes watched them all carefully, as though weighing their worth with his gaze alone. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but carried easily in the silent house.

"Link."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews guys! I hope this lives up to your expectations! See ya Tuesday.

EDIT 3/13 - typo fixes

* * *

There was surprisingly little argument over Link's presence. Though Harry had been ushered away by Tonks, he heard enough to know that Dumbledore, at least, wanted Link to come with them. Moody had grumbled loudly at the lack of due caution in this decision, but had ultimately capitulated.

Harry found himself strangely glad at that. Though they didn't know each other well, he liked the other boy and was undeniably curious. Perhaps Dumbledore was as well. Whatever the reason, Link had joined them on a freezing ride to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Had Harry been less miserably cold, he would have laughed at the elfin boy's expression as they mounted what should have been household tools.

"You've never flown before?" he couldn't help but ask once they'd landed. It was clear he hadn't. Link had sat awkwardly on the broom with a baffled look until Tonks had kindly offered instruction. He'd adapted quickly, but not without some initial fumbling that made Moody snarl impatiently.

Link handed the slip of parchment back to Moody, removing the glasses that Lupin assured him had the same function as the language spell, only for the written word. He slipped them into the pack that rested at the small of his back. It was the same pack he'd stowed his sword in after trading a few cross words with Moody, and Harry goggled at the enchantments that must be on it, to allow such a big blade to fit inside. Slung across Link's back, it had looked huge. Though Link himself had to've been barely scraping five feet, so it probably wasn't the greatest comparison.

"Not with a broom." He tilted his head. "Fight, yes, but not fly."

Harry sorely wanted to ask, but Moody took the opportunity to grumpily usher them inside.

Lupin quietly advised them both not to touch anything as they stepped inside the silent building. Harry wasn't sure he would have wanted to anyway. Everything he could see looked dank and grimy, and the light Moody provided an instant later only added to that impression.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over in a whirl, and Harry smiled at her fierce hug. She tutted softly at how thin he was, and Harry was grateful when she distracted herself quickly enough with Link's presence. He was less grateful however, when Link was ushered away. Harry wasn't so far away he couldn't hear the words 'meeting' and 'Dumbledore.' Link merely nodded and left with the matronly witch, leaving Harry to once again be excluded.

* * *

Hestia Jones, Emmaline Vance, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Arthur, Molly, and Bill Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, and Albus Dumbledore. Link tried to keep all of the names and faces straight, but it was a lot of people to meet in a very short amount of time. All of them were watching him with varying degrees of caution, and Link carefully resisted the urge to stare at their ears.

He'd never been around such a large group of humans before. Though common in neighboring provinces, humans hadn't been to Hyrule in centuries, and Link had never been outside the kingdom. Not in this life, anyway.

It wasn't as though they were that different from one another. Hylians and gerudo had once considered themselves humans too. But it was still a little strange, and Link felt that same peculiar sense of displacement he had when he'd first reintroduced himself to the various races around Hyrule, and when he'd first drawn the Master Sword. During the coronation, especially. It was as though he existed just a step out of touch with everyone else. He supposed that was truer now than it had ever been.

It didn't help that these humans were even more unusual than their rounded ears would suggest.

They were mages. All of them.

Mages had become increasingly rare in Hyrule over the last few centuries; millennia, really. Though magic was rich in the blood of hyruleans, those that could and did actively practice such arts had dwindled to a rare few. Outside the Sheikah, all that was left were the scattered bloodlines that carried powers like Daruk's, like Mipha's and Urbosa's and Revali's. Like Zelda's, if such powers could compare to her goddess-blood.

Like Link himself, now, he supposed, though he doubted his magicks could be passed through his blood. Those, after all, had been gifts.

He couldn't recall the mages of Hyrule ever practicing such varied and small magicks however. Link watched as the assembled group settled into place, floating parchments and inkbottles gliding onto the long table in pursuit of their masters. One mage twirled a stick - what appeared at first glance to be a less impressive fire rod - at a teapot, which instantly steamed and rose to pour hot liquid into cups that stirred themselves. The eldest among their number tapped a chair that promptly turned plush and soft.

Despite the casual comfort of his seat, it was this mage that held authority in every aged line of his body. It was clear just from the way the others glanced in his direction that they deferred to him. It was the same sort of respect the new hyrulean council afforded Zelda.

The eldest, Dumbledore, cleared his throat and instantly silenced the room. "We have a great many matters to discuss tonight," he began, voice aged but firm, "starting with our young guest." The smile he turned on Link was kind. "While we are very grateful for your assistance to Mr. Potter, it is a mystery how you came to be there that night. Perhaps you could shed some light on this for us, Mr...?"

Link tilted his head slightly in confusion, quite sure the mage was already aware of his name. "Link," he said simply.

"No surname?" Dumbledore asked, and if there was anything but curiosity in his voice the hylian couldn't tell.

It was not a topic much discussed in Hyrule, especially as the need for surnames dwindled after the Calamity. Link had not had one, before, but if they were to follow tradition in this then he supposed he should start using the name granted to him through marriage. "Hyrule."

Months after the fact, and that still sounded strange.

"Mr. Hyrule, then."

Very strange.

Link met the old mage's eyes. The gaze felt piercing, even through slender half-moon glasses. "I don't know how I came to Little Whinging," he said honestly. There was nothing to be gained through lies at this juncture, and even if there were, Link didn't know enough about this world to be able to tell. "I was battling more of those monsters, but at the time I was in Gerudo Desert." The old Arbiter's Grounds, specifically. While roads and bridges currently held precedence in Hyrule's reconstruction, one of the few cultural pursuits the council had agreed upon was unearthing more of their history, primarily in hopes of locating more Sheikah technology for them to adapt and use. Link wasn't entirely sure what had prompted Zelda to choose those ancient ruins as the location for their first dig, but work had ceased after only a few months, when the first of those black-cloaked monsters had appeared.

The monster had done something to one of the workers, rendered her unto a death-like sleep where she breathed and little else. As far as their healers knew, she did not even dream. Their weapons had done little to deter the creature, and just a single beast had emptied the dig site of all its workers. And then more had appeared. Riju rightfully feared for the safety of her people, and had requested the only weapons they'd yet to try; the two holy powers now housed solely within the royal family.

Zelda hadn't wanted to stay behind, but she had understood the necessity of it. Even if she hadn't, her sealing magic was fading. So Link had readied the Master Sword, and left as fast as the Sheikah slate could take him.

Thankfully, it worked. The holy power within the Blade of Evil's Bane had proven effective against the monsters. Even so, with little idea how or why they were appearing Link could accomplish little more than containment. He'd decided then to find the source of their spawning and had ridden to the Arbiter's Grounds.

Link could recall nothing after that.

"I don't remember much else. One moment I was fighting in the desert, the next I had killed the two near Harry."

"I see," Dumbledore hummed, blue eyes glinting with magic. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like being pinned under the weighty gaze of a Sheikah fortune-teller. "Dementors are an ancient evil, and though we wizards have ways to defend against them, never in our knowledge has one truly died. How is it your sword was able to cut them down?"

More than one set of eyes fixed on him at the question. Link frowned, unsure what he should say. The legend was known by everyone in Hyrule, and the blade revered as the weapon of the Hero. There was no reassurance they would see it that way here. "The Master Sword is goddess-forged, and possesses the holy power to vanquish evil. I am afraid if you are searching for something to help you, you need look elsewhere. It can be wielded by no other," Link said firmly, unwilling to continue. He could hear murmurs of discontent and disbelief around him, but across the table blue eyes met blue. Dumbledore somehow knew him to be truthful.

"I see," he repeated. "One final question. Where would you like to go from here?"

"What, that's it?!" someone squawked indignantly. Black, maybe. Link ignored him. Judging by the confused mutters from the majority of those assembled, Dumbledore had gotten significantly more out of their brief conversation than anyone else.

Forget fortune-tellers. This Dumbledore reminded him of _Impa_.

Link's eyes narrowed faintly. He knew he often appeared inscrutable to others; it remained was a point of contention with Zelda. Though she knew him best, she still had difficulty guessing what he was thinking at times. So what exactly did Dumbledore know, hand how?

The magic here was so varied in use...

"Home. My family needs me." Almost as much as _he_ needed _her_. Though they were still young, still new to their marriage and the full extent of their royal status, they had meant it when they swore an oath in the eyes of the goddesses to forever be there for one another. And it was now more than ever that he needed to uphold that oath. He met the old mage's eyes and thought of why. Dumbledore's gaze softened in sympathy, and Link resisted the urge to sigh, resigned and a little disturbed by the fact that his thoughts were bared to at least one other than himself. These people, at least, seemed to mean well.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and abandoned all pretense of including the rest of the men and women in the room in their conversation. "I do not know of a way to help you, but I know of somewhere that might. I would like to extend an offer to you, Your Majesty, if you are willing to hear it."

More than one person choked on their tea. Something primal in Link smiled with the cool certainty that this was right. This was the path he must take.

Perhaps the Goddesses watched over him still.

Link's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm listening."

* * *

Diagon Alley was as beautiful as it was lively. The shops were crowded with mages draped in colorful robes, peering into windows and exchanging gossip. Shops of all shapes and sizes sold all manner of goods, most of which Link could not even guess a purpose for. And through it all, there was so much _magic_.

Zelda would have loved this.

Lupin smiled. The scarred mage had kindly offered to be the one to escort Link to and from the Alley, as he was one of the few with no pressing matters to attend to that day. Most of the others had jobs, and the teens were not to leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

The hylian carefully did not think of Harry's outrage at that. The young wizard was clearly troubled for a number of reasons, and had been moody and taciturn for most of their brief acquaintance. Close proximity to his friends hadn't seemed to help much, either. While Link would offer to help if he could, the boy didn't seem much interested in bettering his attitude. If he were truly so determined to wallow in misery, there was little anyone could do to fix things.

Zelda had been much the same, a century ago. At the time, Link had been a convenient outlet for her frustrations. Eventually she had opened up and had been much happier for it, so perhaps Harry would be the same.

"Wand next," Lupin directed. Link nodded, stowing away the last of his books in his korok-enhanced pouch. Though Dumbledore had graciously offered the use of Hogwarts' library, Link had made an alarming number of purchases at Flourish and Blotts. In addition to texts for younger years, the hylian had needed the course books for fifth-year students, both the core classes and two electives.

Runes would have no use in Hyrule. Arithmancy had potential, but required years of dedicated study. He had no viable way of entering that class as a fifth-year. Divination had seemed useful, as both Heroes and Princesses of ages past had been known to have prophetic dreams, but Hermione - to whom Link had been introduced the night prior - had loudly decried the class and teacher both.

That left Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. This world's technology and ways of dealing with monsters would likely be the most valuable knowledge Link could take home, so the hylian was content with those two choices.

History and Astronomy were out. Neither class would be a worthy use of his time, and Link had immediately argued against taking them. Though they were technically required courses, Dumbledore had eventually capitulated, and offered to allow him to use their timeslots as "free periods" for research. He'd put his foot down on the other core classes though. Link had to at least appear to be a student to explain his presence at Hogwarts, and the magic Link could learn would be useful either way. As Dumbledore had quietly reminded him, if he couldn't use magic, how was it going to be of any help getting him home?

Unfortunately, research into actually getting home would have to wait. Dumbledore had assured him the texts in the school's library and headmaster's office had the highest chances of containing what he needed. Link didn't exactly have many options, so he took the elderly mage at his word.

Even so, Link had purchased nearly fifty tomes. While many were simply ones he thought would be useful once he finally made his way home, there were still an cringe-worthy number he would have to dedicate himself to studying if he were to successfully integrate himself as a fifth-year student at Hogwarts.

(Link considered himself very fortunate that rupees appeared as gems to the people of this world. And very glad he was not in charge of finances or acquisitions in Hyrule. If the goblins were any indiction, haggling was definitely not his strong suit.)

The shop Lupin guided them to creaked with age. A fine layer of dust had settled with an air of permanence over the furniture and wares. No other customers were inside, making the place seem oddly empty and cluttered all at once.

It positively _reeked_ of magic.

"Cypress and unicorn hair," a voice rang from behind one of the many packed shelves. Ollivander, the shop's proprietor, stepped into the dim light filtering through the windows. "Ten and a quarter inches. Rather pliable."

Lupin smiled wryly, unfazed by wandmaker's strange entrance. "Quite right," he said agreeably.

"And who might you be?" Watery blue eyes peered at the hylian behind strands of flyaway silver.

"Link. Hyrule," he added stiltedly. People here cared far more for surnames than the people of Hyrule, though given their sheer numbers, Link supposed they had reason enough.

"Most curious," the shopkeep muttered. Link held still under the intense scrutiny, even as an instrument twined around him, taking measurements for reasons he couldn't guess. It felt rather like he was going to have a frog shoved in his face again. "Wand hand?" Link obligingly held out his right.

The man spun away plucking a dusty box from the multitude of shelves seemingly at random and rather unceremoniously shoved a wand in his hands. "Perhaps this one." Link wasn't sure what he had expected, but the wand felt inert, lifeless. He hadn't so much as twitched a finger when Ollivander ripped it away, pushing another box at him. "English Oak, dragon heartstring. Ten and a half inches."

Link could feel a burning heat straight through the leather of his pack. He hastily dropped the wand, which sparked threateningly _right back at the Master Sword_.

"No, no, that won't do. Maple and unicorn hair. Thirteen and a quarter inch." And so it went. Either the wand itself seemed dissatisfied, or the Master Sword did, and Link had worked his way up to nearly a dozen wands before Ollivander handed him one that felt... well. It felt _right._ A gentle warmth cradled his hand and Link flicked the wand experimentally. Soft violet sparks rained from its tip.

A quiet, almost reluctant heat pulsed from his pack.

"Blackthorn and phoenix feather, thirteen inches. And yet this wand seems quite pleased already. You've faced a great many trials in your life, Mr. Hyrule," he murmured. "We must have high expectations for you, indeed."

Link wasn't sure how to take that, so he settled for nodding once. The wandmaker hummed thoughtfully. "That will be seven galleons, Mr. Hyrule."

They left the shop with little fanfare. That had been the last item on their list, so Link was surprised when Lupin led them, not to the exit, but to a small storefront selling... frozen cream?

"I hope you don't mind," Lupin said quietly, "but I would like to talk."

They sat at one of the outdoor tables, each with a scoop of what the mage had called chocolate ice cream. Lupin twirled his spoon absently over the cold treat.

"I trust Dumbledore's judgement," he started, "so when he says you can be trusted, know that I believe it."

Link took a bite. Oh, but that was good. He resolved right then and there to figure out how to make this chocolate ice cream so he could share some with Zelda.

"But Dumbledore has asked you to watch over Harry, and I'm not sure you know quite what you've signed up for."

The hylian merely hummed, scooping another bite. Mages were different, and he would undoubtedly need to prepare, but Link had been a knight for years. More than that, he'd been Zelda's personal guard.

Lupin grimaced. "Harry and his friends are clever. Too clever by far, braver than is healthy, and frightfully good at finding trouble. They don't trust easily, and saying anything is for their own good is as likely as not to put their guard up."

Also familiar. Link could hardly forget the months Zelda had spent resenting his presence, out of both misplaced jealousy and the confinement she felt at being guarded.

"So please, for their sake and yours, try not to let them get too involved in Order business. They've been lucky so far, but all three of them can be exceedingly reckless if they believe they have good reason for it." The scarred mage sighed. "Dumbledore has his reasons for keeping Harry in the dark, whatever they might be, and I can't fault him for doing what he must to keep them safe."

Link's spoon clanked as it hit the empty bowl. He manfully resisted the urge to pout. "I'll do all I can," he promised softly.

Lupin nodded gratefully. "That's all I ask." He glanced down with a quirked brow, amused, and pushed his untouched bowl toward the hylian.

Link didn't even hesitate.

* * *

There was a lot of work to be done. For Link, this meant studying through five years worth of magical material. He was sure he'd never read so much in his life; his father's homestead had contained barely half-a-dozen books. They'd traded them out with other families for new things to read on occasion, but housework and training had been altogether more important. In fact, if his father hadn't insisted, Link very likely would have been illiterate. To serve the royal family, he'd once said, he needed to train his mind as much as his body.

He was very, very grateful for his father.

For those seventeen and under, this meant cleaning. Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, and Ginny spent hours each day scouring rooms, collecting garbage, and disposing of pests. If the adults weren't too busy, they helped. Usually this meant Sirius Black, as the only wizard - Lupin had insisted on the term, rather than mage - over seventeen disallowed entirely from leaving the house.

Cleaning was distasteful. Link might have been grateful that his studying had been deemed more important, but he was growing more and more restless by the day. He simply wasn't used to this much inactivity, but the last time Mrs. Weasley had caught him going through his forms she'd shrieked about the dangers of "waving a great pointy stick about" for a solid five minutes, as though he were a child in desperate need of scolding.

Still, this was not his home, so he respected her wishes and contented himself with practicing bladeless. By all accounts Hogwarts was far more spacious. He was not so impatient that a few weeks would stress him unduly.

The rest of his time was utilized practicing magic. Link had at first been nervous to see whether he could actually cast the way these wizards did, but his fears were quickly put to rest. Many of the spells nestled in the pages of his grade 1-3 books were quite simple, and he had little trouble so long as he dedicated himself to practice. Defensive spells in particular came easily, a fact Link couldn't bring himself to be surprised over. Combat had always come naturally to him, and the rhythms of magical combat were merely different, not hard.

Charms, on the other hand, grew increasingly difficult the further he advanced. Many charms, he had found, were whimsical or simply lazy, neither of which impressed him much. As though the magic itself detected his lack of regard, spells he cast started functioning poorly. After nearly braining himself with a book attempting a summoning charm, Link decided to put off the charms work until he had more than his own assistance.

The other two practical (as Link thought of them) branches of magic, Transfiguration and Potions, were tricky. Potions not so much because of any inherent difficulty, but because he was hard-pressed to find the time and space to brew. It truly was a pity, as he'd been looking forward to comparing them with the elixers he'd made in Hyrule, and seeing how his own ingredients fared with the ones he'd purchased at the apothecary.

Transfiguration was... interesting. And about as practical as charms. Oh, he could focus well enough on the result he wanted. Link's ability to focus had never once been in question. No, it was what the goal actually was that hampered him here. While some of the spells he considered useful, a great many of them were simply bizarre. Creating matchsticks from kindling, _that_ he could see the use for. When on earth would he need to turn a rat into a teacup? He could only imagine the face Zelda would make at drinking from a rat, of all things. That didn't stop the subject from being fascinating in its own right, but the hylian was stuck achieving mixed results in practice.

Link sighed tiredly. It had been just over three weeks since his trip to the Alley, and the constant reading and practice made it feel as though time were crawling, especially given how anxious he was to get to Hogwarts. Days had never felt so slow.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Link was being forced to stand still, and he hated it. Maybe he could have handled it, were Zelda by his side, sharing in the joy of learning. He had always fed off her enthusiasm, and she had been most passionate when given the thrill of discovery.

But Zelda wasn't here. She was where he was trying to go.

A harsh sob met his ears. The sound was faint, heard from quite the distance, but hylians had always had sharp hearing. There was a reason their ears were said to hear the voices of the goddesses.

Link stood warily, reaching into the pack he took with him everywhere and willing the Master Sword to his hand. The magic of the forest spirits held true, and the Blade slid easily to his waiting fingers.

He slipped soundlessly out of the library and up the stairs. Moody might have looked his way from where he was talking with Harry, but Link couldn't be sure. The man's eye was disturbing.

Mrs. Weasley was in the drawing room, visibly shaking as her wand jerked in an aborted spell. Ginny was lying on the floor, ashen and rigid with death. Link froze, blue eyes wide. How could he, could _anyone in this house_ , have missed this? But no, hadn't he passed the girl on his way up? He hadn't looked.

" _R-riddikulus,_ " the matronly witch choked out through wracking sobs. The girl's body vanished with a loud crack, replaced instead with Ron's. Light footsteps tread behind them, but Link didn't bother to look.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry questioned weakly.

" _Riddikulus_ ," she whimpered again. Whatever spell she was trying to work simply failed, the body this time becoming Mr. Weasley. Link gripped her shoulder. He wasn't sure what was causing this, but felt confident now that the bodies were illusions of some sort. Mrs. Weasley wasn't handling them well though, so it would be best for her to withdraw.

He pulled her back, gently stepping in front of her in a familiar guard stance. The Master Sword shone palely with the power it had gained from his trials, but lacked the fierce glow it took in the face of evil. Something beast-like in him snarled, angry at the danger that had slipped his notice. Whatever it was, Link would handle it in her stead.

And then it changed.

Though still a person, the illusion was no longer a corpse. A youth stood in its place, blonde locks slightly darker than his wife's sunshine gold tumbling down her back. When she met his gaze, her eyes were blue. He knew those eyes. That petite nose, her proud brow. The confident quirk of her lips. Though he'd never seen her before, he knew intimately who she had to be. A little girl, Zelda, but not his Zelda, named for her mother, her mother's mother, a title and a name reaching past the founding of Hyrule and stretching all the way back to Hylia Herself.

The little girl he'd left behind, growing still within the Queen, his wife. Their daughter.

She tilted her head cutely, blue eyes blank with disintrerest. "/Who are you?/" she asked, Hylian crisp with the cultured accent of century-old nobility. There was nothing of his voice in hers, not the faint Zoran accent he'd gained from a childhood spent in the Domain, nor the softer consonants learned from his parents in Hateno.

 _Your father_ , he wanted to say. _Your mother's husband. You know me._ The words stuck in his throat. Dimly he heard Mrs. Weasley's sobs tapering to muted sniffles. The girl, this ghost of his future, did not seem to need to hear his voice.

"/Mother doesn't have a husband/," she said blithely, "/I have no father./" Link could no longer breathe, frozen in the choking horror clawing at his heart.

 _That's not true. You_ know _me._

"Link? _Link!_ What's wrong? Who is that?" Harry's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, the touch grounding. Link sucked in a shuddering breath. "Let someone else-"

"What's going on?"

Lupin. Lupin and Sirius (who had refused to answer when called Black, Link thought inanely) and Moody. Lupin, who smoothly inserted himself between Link and the apparition. It changed immediately into a pale orb, shining softly with reflected light.

" _Riddikulus_!" And just like that it was gone.

Mrs. Weasley burst into a fresh round of sobs, burying her face in the scarred wizard's shoulder. His face softened in sympathy, but Link couldn't focus on their conversation.

"First time dealing with a boggart, boy?" Moody asked gruffly.

"Boggart?" Link exhaled faintly.

"Dark creature. Takes the form of your worst fear," the wizard explained. He eyed the hylian critically for a long moment. "Come with me, I'll show you how to deal with them before I leave." Link nodded, following after the grizzled old wizard mechanically.

His worst fear. Link knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was true, because that little girl had been so breathtakingly real, so terrifyingly _possible_.

She was what would be, if Link couldn't find his way home.


	3. Chapter 3

EDIT 3/13 - typo fixes

* * *

Link ruthlessly stifled a yawn as he followed Harry and his friends to the school carriages. He hadn't slept much the night before, thoughts circling endlessly on the form the boggart had taken. It had been hours before he'd regained the calm first taught to him by the Sheikah.

Harry had shot him curious looks all morning, clearly dying to ask, and Link was glad he had not. That he had frozen so badly before his fears stung, what his fear was stung even worse, and the hylian was keen to avoid further discussion on the matter. As per his agreement with Dumbledore, he couldn't actually avoidthe boy, but that would have been the cowardly action anyway.

Thankfully, between Sirius' insistence on accompanying them to the station and the youthful dramas played out after they'd boarded, Link was certain the green-eyed wizard had forgotten. The only event worth noting during the ride itself had been the Malfoy boy's odd word choice. Link might not have noticed had Harry and Hermione not reacted with such concern.

The hylian had proceeded to use the time the others spent catching up examining the train itself. Seeing the vehicle might have been more shocking had Link not personally witnessed such marvels as the Divine Beasts. His own, gleefully dubbed _Vah Epona_ , was more advanced than even the four gargantuan Beasts, and they in turn were decades, possibly centuries, above the level readily accessible in this world.

That relative simplicity was a powerful lure. The science behind the ancient Sheikah tech had eluded even the brightest scholars for centuries. Even Robbie and Purah could only do so much with it, and they'd spent their entire lives with single-minded dedication to understanding the technology. Perhaps tech such as the train would be easier to replicate or adapt.

Whatever he could take home with him would be useful. That is, of course, if he made it there.

Mood souring, Link returned his attention to the group of young men and women, resisting the urge to fidget with his unfamiliarly flowing robes and the tie he'd needed Hermione's help tying. They'd finally selected a carriage, though Harry kept shooting strange looks at the beasts tethered to it. The horse-like creatures had dark, leathery hides stretched taught over bone, with massive black wings furled tight to their sides. They did not look particularly friendly, though they waited placidly for some unseen signal to start moving.

A bit like Stalhorses, he mused. Just as demonic in appearance, but docile. Link had ridden a fair few in his journey across Hyrule, and despite the discomfort of riding on bone, he had found them to be friendly, helpful creatures. That in mind, he bypassed the open door of the carriage to approach. The one nearest him pawed at the ground in boredom, undisturbed by his proximity.

The hylian reached out carefully, making sure the creature could see his movement clearly. It snorted once before tilting its head toward his hand in acceptance. Link stroked its mane. It felt nothing like a horse, but the creature's behavior was close enough.

"What _are_ they, d'you reckon?" Harry asked with a slight grimace. The boy didn't seem inclined to move any closer. Link shrugged.

Ron gave them both a weird look. "What things?"

"The horse things? They're right there," he said, pointing. Link turned curiously, not bothering to stop stroking the beast. It was clearly enjoying the attention.

"There's nothing there, mate," Ron insisted, but he was frowning thoughtfully, gaze panning between Link and Harry. "D'you know what he's on about, then?"

Link shot the redhead a pointed look, giving the creature a few slow, deliberate pats. Luna chose that moment to approach. "Oh yes," she said easily. "They've always been there." The pale girl smiled and slipped past them, into the carriage. Harry's gaze trailed after her uncertainly. His mouth opened and closed silently. Unable to put voice to thought, he gave up, sliding in after the girl.

They were almost there, Link thought, following after a bemused Ron. Behind him, the creature tossed its dark head in anticipation as the line of carriages started forward. Link turned his gaze out the window where, dotted with warm flickers of torchlight, the castle gleamed in welcome.

The ride passed in silence, the carriage's occupants too lost in their own thoughts to strike up conversation. To Link, it was just a little unsettling. He was used to the quiet of the wilderness, the silence of solitary travel. But all of his prior companions had been proud, confident people who did not hesitate to share their thoughts. Zelda in particular had a habit of filling the quiet with words directed at no one and everyone, merely a means of organizing her thoughts.

It was with a sense of relief that they finally left the carriages, trickling through the massive doors leading to the Great Hall.

"Mr. Hyrule," a stern voice called. Link turned to the stately witch draped in emerald robes as she beckoned him to one side. The hylian had seen her once or twice at Grimmauld Place, but hadn't yet spoken with her. He hadn't realized she was a teacher.

"Tradition dictates that the students of Hogwarts be sorted into one of four houses by the qualities they possess. These houses will dictate with whom and where each student will stay for their time at the school," McGonagall informed him. "You will be no different."

That made no sense to Link. Dumbledore had asked him to watch over Harry and his friends; it was part of his agreement to stay at the castle. Why risk making his job that much harder? Or perhaps they intended to simply go through the motions of whatever this ceremony was, and place him with Harry regardless of which qualities his house desired.

"Please wait here while the first years are sorted. They will be arriving momentarily." She left him to his own devices then, preparing for the arrival of the first years as the last of the returning students cleared the entrance.

Thankfully, he did not have long to wait. McGonagall directed the group of children inside the doors, silencing their nervous chatter with barely a look and a word. She wore authority well, Link observed.

The witch then proceeded to explain to the new students what she had just told to Link, forming them up into a rough line and leading them through the doors. Link could faintly hear the notes of a song through the closed doors, one that rang ominously at the end, and which contradicted McGonagall's seeming acceptance of the sorting tradition as a whole. He didn't have much time to ponder on the bafflingly mixed messages he was receiving however, as the sorting itself soon started.

Ragged cheers were audible even through the thick wood, accompanied by intermittent shouts of "Gryffindor," "Ravenclaw," "Hufflepuff," and "Slytherin." No further clues as to how the sorting itself was conducted were forthcoming, and Link couldn't help but pout inwardly. He hated not feeling prepared.

The cheers and the noise slowly tapered off, and Dumbledore's voice rose in the ensuing quiet. "It has been many years since Hogwarts has had the fortune of offering a place to transfer students. As such, I would like you all to provide a proper welcome to the newest among our number, Link Hyrule."

The huge doors before him creaked open on their own. Taking that as his cue, Link strode forward. Though he'd known there were a great many students at Hogwarts, Link was still taken aback by their number. There were more witches and wizards in this one room than there were people in most hylian towns in Hyrule. Granted, the Calamity had taken its toll on the population, but even before only Castle Town had more residents than there were students at Hogwarts. Link had certainly never seen so many children all in one place.

Whispers rose and fell as he passed the four long tables to where McGonagall waited behind an old, pointed hat. Though most of the comments were expected, a great many of them commenting on his ears (which he didn't blame them for in the slightest), he couldn't help the tiny flush that rose to his cheeks as he heard the words "pretty" and "cute." And "tiny." More than once.

McGonagall again silenced the room with a cutting glance and looked to Link expectantly. He quirked a brow and she returned with a small but pointed nod at the hat where it rested on a small, three-legged stool.

Wizards sorted their students... with a hat?

The only thing to do, it seemed, was what one would naturally expect from such an article of clothing, He picked it up and placed it on his head.

 _"Well, now, it_ has _been a while, hasn't it?"_

Link recognized the voice from the song. _"What has?_ " he thought back.

 _"I have not seen a child of Hylia a long, long time. Such doors have not been opened in an age, not since the very founding of this school."_

Link unconsciously straigthened, now fully alert. _"What doors?_ " he asked sharply. _"What do you mean?"_

 _"There exist a number of doors between your world and ours,"_ the hat responded easily. _"I was told once that within your world there lies a key with the power to open them. But I don't know more than that. Now, where to put you?"_

The hylian froze in disbelief. _"Wait! Who told you this? Where are these doors?"_

 _"I don't know,"_ the hat scoffed at having to repeat itself. He proceeded to ignore the questions blazing through Link's mind like lightning and murmured to itself, " _Loyalty, yes, and such a strong desire. A quick mind, too... but no, with so much courage, there's only one place for you. You're best placed in no other than_ GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed that last aloud, the sound ringing painfully through Link's sensitive ears. He swept the hat off his head, dropping it into McGonagall's waiting hands.

One of the tables burst into cheers. Link panned his gaze down the long table, relieved when he spotted Harry and his friends sitting with a group of students their age. He hastened toward the familiar faces, and Hermione scooched to one side to make room for him. Link nodded gratefully and the bushy-haired girl beamed.

Dumbledore stood and bid the students a brief but heartfelt welcome, and quite suddenly there was _so much food_ crowding the tables that they groaned under the weight of it all. The hylian shamelessly distracted himself by placing a bit of everything in reach on his plate, ignoring the flatly disbelieving look Hermione threw the towering pile as he dug in.

If this was what he could expect at Hogwarts, Link could easily enjoy his stay here.

* * *

Harry was having a hard time containing his frustration. Argument with Seamus still fresh on his mind, he glowered his way out of the common room.

The Great Hall was noisy with chatter by the time Harry, Hermione, and Ron had settled in for breakfast. As he had last night, Link sat by Hermione, perusing one of the many books he'd waded hip-deep in all summer. Hermione, not unexpectedly, vocally approved of the blond's studiousness.

Harry thought he looked a bit funny, swamped in the same flowing robes as the rest of the students. The loose fabric made him look even smaller than he already was, and he was barely the height of the average third-year to begin with.

It was difficult to remember, sometimes, that this was the wizard who'd single-handedly killed two dementors.

Harry shook his head absently, accepting his class schedule from McGonagall as she passed. Hermione barely glanced up from her newspaper in time to receive hers.

Ron groaned loudly. "Mondays are going to be awful," he moaned. "Binns, Snape, Trelawny, _and_ that Ministry stooge," he added disgustedly, clearly thinking of Hermione's words after the toad-woman's speech the night prior. Harry had a feeling he was right. Mondays were going to be dreadful. Even Fred and George agreed, when they stopped by, and neither of them were much serious about anything related to school.

To Harry's surprise Link broke away from them after breakfast, merely asking Hermione for directions to the library. "Oh," she startled, even as she gave the directions. "But we have History now, and it wouldn't do for you to get off to bad start here, not on your first day!"

Link waved her concerns off, flashing his own schedule at her. Whatever the girl saw had her raising her brows. "Alright then. We'll see you in Potions, Link. If you get lost, don't hesitate to ask the portraits how to get there."

She hummed thoughtfully as he thanked her and left. At Harry's questioning look she responded, "He's been exempted from History and Astronomy. I could understand if they were electives, but both of those are core classes!"

"Unfair," Ron whined. "Why do we have to sit through Binns when he doesn't? History's pointless!"

Hermione's frosty glare told him he'd definitely said the wrong thing. "History is important," she snapped. "How else are we to learn from our ancestors? Not to mention understanding today. Goblin relations alone should tell you-"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron waved airily, and unwisely, Harry thought blandly. "But not the way Binns teaches it. The only thing I get out of that class is a free nap."

"If that's the way you feel," Hermione huffed, "then you can forget about borrowing my notes."

Harry tuned out their bickering, sure it would have continued for much longer if it hadn't been for class actually starting. Not that Binns would have noticed if it had Harry thought idly, eyelids drooping. Ron was right about one thing; Binns was horribly boring.

* * *

Link slipped into the Potions classroom just as the bell rang, looking unfairly relaxed under Snape's perpetual glower. "Five points from Gryffindor," the man hissed, "for tardiness."

Harry withheld a sigh, sure Snape would find a reason to take points away had he dared make a sound. It was barely the first class of the year, and already they were losing points. If this were an indication of how the rest of the year would go, Gryffindor probably shouldn't bother coming down to the dungeons at all.

"My apologies, Professor," the elfin wizard said politely, sliding into the seat next to Hermione. He seemed quite fond of her, Harry mused. When he didn't have his nose in a book, he was usually hanging around the bushy-haired witch. Hermione didn't seem to mind.

Snape eyed the blond darkly but didn't seem to find fault with his words, stalking to the front of the room. His class introduction was predictably mean-spirited, making it perfectly clear how little he expected his students to accomplish this year, gaze lingering pointedly on a select few students. Harry was entirely unsurprised when Snape's pointed remarks about standards coincided with his black glare falling directly on him.

Perhaps if the man were a competent teacher, Harry thought sourly, more students might actually learn something.

Class followed the same standard the man had set years ago. He flicked his wand, directions for the potion they were to make appearing on the blackboard, and hovered menacingly as the students went about following them. Harry glanced around as he worked, noting the extra books on Link's workstation. He was clearly unfamiliar with many of the ingredients, taking the time to reference them briefly before getting started. How he got away with it was anyone's guess - Snape would have been on his case instantly had Harry done so.

Maybe he just didn't want the new kid blowing anything up. Who knew?

About ten minutes in, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. Ron was not mad enough to try and talk during potions, so Harry glanced up quickly from his powdered porcupine quills, wondering who was brave - or perhaps dumb - enough to try anything under Snape's large nose. To Harry's surprise it was Link who, holding a vaguely star-shaped flower, gestured pointedly at the board.

The green-eyed wizard frowned for a moment before it clicked. Oh. Hellebore. He'd nearly skipped one of the instructions.

Harry grinned in thanks, shifting focus to the correct ingredient. Another hour passed in tense silence before Snape called time.

Hermione's potion, as always, was perfect, a pale silver vapor rising steadily from it as it cooled. Link's, despite his slow start, was twin to hers. To Harry's utmost shock, so was his own. He felt a little thrill of pride as he stared down at his work. There was no way Snape could fault him today.

Sadly, Harry was wrong. The man passed Hermione's cauldron without comment, but as soon as he stopped at Harry's a pinched expression crossed his face. "I would call this decent," he hissed, "if it were indeed your own work. Tell me, Potter, did you think you could get away with cheating in _my_ classroom?"

Harry glared. "I didn't-"

"Did you or did you not accept instruction from one of your... peers... _Mr_. Potter?"

He hesitated. While Link had done nothing but point at the board, undoubtedly Snape would not see it that way. Before he could think of a response, the potions master scoffed loudly. "Twenty points from Gryffindor," he spat, vanishing Harry's potion with a sharp wave of his wand.

Harry was left to fume in silence as everyone else bottled their potions. He had done his work. He hadn't cheated. His potion had been _perfect,_ and Snape _knew it_. And yet he was the only one that would fail today's lesson. Knuckles white from clenched fingers, the Gryffindor stormed out of the dungeon before anyone else had even finished cleaning.

Link trailed after Hermione and Ron when they finally made it to lunch. Harry's shepherd's pie tasted like ash in his mouth.

"I'm sorry," the blond apologized softly, brows furrowed in confusion. "I didn't realize helping each other was against the rules."

"Only in Snape's class," Harry growled. "And only for Gryffindors. He doesn't actually care if we learn anything, and he's had it out for me since first year."

Hermione looked uncomfortable, but notably did not disagree. With the second part, anyway. "He _is_ our professor," she said, shrinking slightly at Harry's fierce glower. "And I, for one, have learned a lot in his class."

Harry was sure she hadn't meant to sound so superior, but Hermione was not always the most understanding of other's academic struggles, particularly when they called a teacher's authority into question.

Ron snorted. "Come off it, 'Mione. The only thing I've learned in there is that Snape's a right bastard."

The girl stared at Ron, aghast. Less, Harry hoped, because of the accusation than because he'd said it where others could hear.

"It was good practice," Link began diplomatically, "but I received more use out of reading the text than Snape's directions," he ended far less so. "Anyone can follow a set of instructions," he added at Hermione's frown, "but a teacher is there to help you improve, not scare you into compliance. Snape did nothing else but watch."

That was more than Link had said at once since they'd met, Harry noted. He felt grimly satisfied that the elfin blond would trouble himself to voice such an opinion.

Hermione bit her lip, but couldn't find it in herself to disagree. Ron noisily voiced his approval through a mouthful of pie.

"Oh, do close your mouth, Ron, that's foul."

Ron rolled his eyes, making sure to chew his next few bites so obnoxiously that even Harry, long used to such antics, felt a little grossed out.

* * *

Link did not share Divination with them, instead making his way to the Muggle Studies classroom. Given the behavior Harry had witnessed during their shared time at the Dursley's he wasn't surprised.

Thankfully, Trelawney didn't seem interested in making a production of Harry's presence that day, and he went through the motions of dream interpretation with a dull disinterest. Defense was next, and Harry had a sinking feeling that any class run by one of Fudge's people was going to be horrid.

They entered the classroom, Umbridge perched at her desk like a large pink toad, painted lips stretched in an obviously fake smile. Link was just ahead of them, a fact which didn't surprise Harry at all. The Divination tower was on the other side of the castle, and whoever had scheduled the two classes so close together clearly had it out for them.

Umbridge's smile faded as she caught sight of Link. Her beady eyes lingered on his long, pointed ears, with what Harry saw was poorly disguised disgust. "Ms. Hyrule, dear, I don't know what things were like at your... previous school..." the way she said "school" indicating she must have thought very little of it "...but here we expect our students to wear the _appropriate_ uniform."

Link stared at her, the tips of his ears burning crimson.

Harry wondered what... Wait. Oh. _Oh_.

Ms.

The frustrations of the day dissolved abruptly as a sudden burst of hilarity welled in Harry's chest. She thought... _Well_ , Harry mused with a snort, staring at the way Link's robes swallowed his already delicate features. The blond's long hair was in its familiar half-tail, but he'd switched his regular blue earrings out for a pair of rather feminine opal teardrops. Harry had seen him debating an elegant circlet that morning, too. _I suppose I can't blame her_.

"Professor Umbridge," Link started, voice pitched slightly higher out of sheer embarrassment, which didn't help _at all_ , "I... I'm not..."

Ron guffawed, having long lost his battle for composure. By this time the other students had also caught on, and the room rang with laughter. Even Hermione, already seated, book out, was giggling.

"Ms. Hyrule?" Umbridge asked uncertainly. She was beginning to look irritated, eyes flitting about the room, clearly wondering what the class was on about.

Link's cherry-tinted cheeks darkened. "I'm not a girl," he bit out finally.

Harry found it absurdly funny that even the blush staining Link's features only made him look more delicate, especially compared to Umbridge, who froze, an unattractive, blotchy flush coloring her face. "Take a seat, if you would, Mr. Hyrule," she squawked, and though Link complied, the damage had already been done. She'd completely lost control of the room.

Harry, grinning like a loon, followed after the blond. Ron all but collapsed into the chair next to him, sides heaving.

"I can't believe she thought you're a girl," he sputtered.

"I'm not even dressed like one this time..." Link muttered. Then he seemed to realize what he said and the red on his face, if possible, darkened even further.

Ron whipped around, face alight in pure glee. "This time?! Merlin's _beard_ ," he swore. "This I've _got_ to hear." He leaned in eagerly and Link jerked back, looking rather like a startled deer.

"Settle down, class!" Umbridge all but shrieked. Harry realized then that it wasn't the first time she'd done so, merely the first anyone could hear. The giggles subsided slowly. By the time Umbridge had regained a modicum of authority, they were nearly five minutes into the lesson. "Wands away," she said stiffly. "You won't be needing them." Whispers and titters still sounded as she tapped the board with her wand. She clearly wasn't handling the disruption well.

Despite her stiff motions her stubby little wand did its job, and neat script printed itself on the blackboard. Harry found his mood sinking once more as he took them in; a "return to basic principles" didn't sound very promising. Her course aims were similarly uninspiring.

Wilbert Slinkhard's book was even worse. Harry found his eyes sliding shut after a few horribly dull pages, unable to focus. It was only when he noticed Hermione raising her hand, rather than reading, that he straightened from his slump.

"Yes, dear?" she asked tightly. The blotches were just starting to fade from her cheeks.

Hermione then did something Harry never thought she'd do. She outright questioned a teacher about her class, in front of every student there, her tone one of clear disapproval. And she was right to, of course, Harry thought, glancing up at the board. The course aims all carefully did not mention practicing any spells at all.

If that were concerning, then Umbridge's response was downright alarming. "Why Ms. Granger," Umbridge said, tone sickly sweet. "We are in a school. Why on earth would you need to _use_ a defensive spell? Surely you aren't expecting to be attacked in my classroom."

Whispers started up again immediately; there was more than one offended outcry. Umbridge could not be serious, surely?

Voldemort was out there right now, and Umbridge didn't want them learning any spells? Harry's ears rang as the discussion flowed around him in muted waves. They weren't going to use magic? Of course not. How were they to practice? They wouldn't. Wouldn't the examiners expect it? Theory would take them far enough.

He couldn't believe Dumbledore had let someone so ignorant become a teacher.

It didn't take long for things to get out of hand. Umbridge barked angrily for students to raise their hands, but they ignored her easily, shouting complaints in a crush of overlapping noise.

Umbridge's face was once more splotchy and red, and she looked about ready to throw the lot of them out. Harry barely noticed over the feel his anger building again, like a swift-rising tide. "What good is theory against Voldemort?" he cut in icily.

A few of his classmates jumped, letting out alarmed gasps at the word that only irritated Harry further. The toad-like woman looked frightfully triumphant in that moment, and the class's alarm tapered into silence.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Umbridge said, sickly sweet. "Despite what you may have heard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named died over a decade ago."

The toad-woman steamrolled over his words, voice cutting as she denounced him a liar. Harry's rage only continued to build.

"He's not dead!" Harry shouted. "He never was, and he's back!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge snapped.

Things only devolved from there.

* * *

"Well that went well," Ron said weakly as they poured out of the Defense classroom.

Hermione looked worried. "I wish Harry hadn't said those things," she sighed.

"He was right, though," Ron argued.

"It doesn't matter that he was right, Ron," she snapped. "Umbridge is a teacher and she works for the Ministry. He needs to be _careful_." The bushy-haired witch groaned. "And Parvati was right too. Honestly, how does Umbridge expect us to perform spells correctly for the first time at an examination of all places?"

"She couldn't even guess my gender right the first time," Link muttered a touch sulkily. Ron snorted loudly. Even Hermione's lips twitched.

"Still," the hylian sighed, "she's being irrational. What purpose does our ignorance serve?"

"Maybe she's working for You-Know-Who?" Ron suggested seriously.

Hermione frowned. "I doubt it," she said, "but it's possible I suppose, if he thinks she'll be a hindrance to Dumbledore. I can't se him devoting so much time and energy into inconveniencing a bunch of students though."

"Harry's basically his worst enemy, and he's a student," Ron pointed out.

"True," Hermione acknowledged. "But Dumbledore's the bigger threat."

The discussion continued all the way down to the Great Hall. Harry was already there, stabbing at his food as though it had personally offended him.

Link watched the younger wizard thoughtfully. Zelda had been so angry too, a century ago, and while their circumstances were different, the result was much the same. So few had believed in her that she'd nearly stopped believing in herself. And with the world seemingly against her, she'd fought back the only way she could - with anger. While hers had primarily focused on Link, Harry was lashing out at anyone he could, even his friends.

The boy was so angry it was driving him to recklessness; even more than before, if Hermione were to be believed. And Link did. Defense class that day had certainly validated her concerns.

Harry needed to realize that people like Umbridge didn't matter. He had the support of the people that counted; everything else would come in time.

Link tapped the boy's shoulder. Green eyes flicked up to meet blue. "About Umbridge," he started gently.

"If you're about to tell me off too, you can shove it," Harry snapped.

"Harry!" Hermione rebuked, aghast.

He merely shook his head, frustrated, and stormed off, meal mostly untouched. They watched his retreating back in worry.

"Oh, Link," the girl fretted. "I'm sorry about him, it's just been so difficult for him lately..." She trailed off, clearly finding her words inadequate.

"It's fine," he sighed. Link wasn't really hurt by Harry's actions. If he thought about it a certain way, the hylian could even say he'd trained for this. The thought amused him, though Hermione still looked distressed.

"But it's not! You've not done anything wrong." She scowled. "I don't know what to do about him. He shouldn't be taking his temper out on us."

For once, Ron did not defend his best friend.

Link remained silent. He didn't know either. Zelda had eventually turned herself around and opened up to Link, a process that had been soothing to both of them, but it had taken saving her from Yiga assassins for that to happen. That was unlikely to be an option here.

The hylian was beginning to think Lupin was right. He really hadn't known what he was in for.


	4. Chapter 4

Link had maybe overreacted. In all fairness, he hadn't realized fairies here weren't quite the same as the fairies of Hyrule. Regardless, the hylian had ended up blasting his bowtruckle away the second he'd heard that they _ate fairy eggs_ , fully convinced he'd been handed some kind of evil wood-sprite. Needless to say, Grubbly-Plank had not been impressed.

Thankfully, the bowtruckle had been more frightened than injured, but that hadn't stopped the teacher from giving him detention. So it was with a faint sense of embarrassment that Link made his way to dinner the following evening, after a long afternoon mucking out the hippogriff stable, only to run smack into Fred and George Weasley.

Link eyed them warily, well aware of the bizarre foods and sweets they offered Gryffindors of all years (they may have gotten him with a Canary Cream a week into his stay at Grimmauld, the heathens), as long as they were out of Hermione's earshot. They'd startled him more than once that summer with all their apparating too, and had delighted in repeating the action once they realized the response it would garner.

Menaces, the both of them.

"So we heard something interesting about you yesterday," Fred started.

"About how every day you wander in and out of the Restricted Section of the library as you please," George continued.

"And we were wondering-"

"No," Link said flatly.

"Not even going to let us finish the question? That's cold, mate," Fred sighed dramatically.

"We're just saying, there's a few books that would be particularly helpful-"

"No," Link repeated. Dumbledore was giving him access to as much knowledge as he liked in good faith. Even if he hadn't found much of use yet, he wasn't about to jeapordize that trust for a couple of pranks.

"Very well, then," Fred said, looping one arm around Link's. "Don't take this the wrong way-"

"-but we've also heard another teensy little rumor about you-" George added, repeating the action on the hylian's other side. Link was now feeling distinctly cornered, and the mischievous gleam in the twins' eyes wasn't helping.

"-about your first class with Umbridge," Fred finished blithely. "And, well, we couldn't resist." Link's gut sank in dread as the trio marched their way into the Great Hall and he felt the enchantment wash over him.

"Strike while the iron's hot, and all that," George said cheerfully, and pushed him forward. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself as the twins sprinted off, cackling.

McGonagall took one look at Link, rose from her seat at the high table, and marched after the redheaded menaces.

The tips of his ears burned from beneath suddenly loose hair as Link found himself under the startled scrutiny of every student in the Hall. In less then a heartbeat, dozens of voices were laughing at him. A few daring students wolf-whistled, and Link risked a glance down.

It would have been one thing if they'd just transfigured his uniform into the girls' version, and at at first glance that might have appeared to be it. But the skirt was too short, the stockings too long, and the blouse ended well above his midriff, the top two buttons (and there were only three) left undone. His red and gold tie hung loose, trailing leadingly to his navel and his robe, when he tugged at it, refused to close.

With what dignity he could muster, Link stalked toward his usual seat by Hermione and sank into it as though nothing in the world were wrong. He was so determinedly pretending that took him a few moments to notice.

The trio weren't laughing. In fact, very few among the Gryffindor table were, and those that had started quickly tapered into awkward silence, followed shortly by the other houses. And then the whispers started.

Links ears twitched, unable to pick out a distinct voice over the rush of murmurs. "What is it?" he asked Hermione, frowning. He reached for a scoop of mashed potato and Dean hastily shoved it his way. The boy looked faintly horrified.

"It's just clothes," Link muttered. The twin menaces hadn't actually given him breasts. While there was nothing wrong with women, Link had no desire to be one. He'd have drawn his sword on the twins if they'd dared. Changing his clothes for a bit of a laugh, though embarrassing, was fine. Or would be, at any rate. It wasn't as though he hadn't worn flimsier outfits anyway - he'd needed to, to see Riju after all.

"It's not that," Hermione said delicately. Her eyes flicked down, seemingly without her consent, and Link finally realized what was wrong.

The pale lines of old scars crisscrossed over his entire torso, faint lines from both before and after his ten decades of sleep painting a telling picture across his body. But none were worse than the trio of starbursts that covered the majority of his side. It was those wounds that had ultimately led to his century-long confinement in the Shrine of Resurrection.

Cut down by guardians after he'd torn his way through dozens of them. Eventually they'd overwhelmed him, their terrifyingly accurate laser-fire tearing through his armor as though it were paper. Had Zelda not activated her own powers in that moment, Link would have died right then, far beyond any hope of saving. Instead her magic had burned through the malice of every guardian still active in Fort Hateno, and she'd ordered him taken to the Shrine.

Though long since healed, even the power of the Shrine had been unable to completely remove his scars.

"Ah," he said absently, tucking into a well-spiced cucco breast. Wait, _chicken_ , that was the word.

"Ah?" Hermione repeated blankly. "That's it? 'Ah?' I'm going to kill those two!" she snarled, incensed.

"It's fine," Link said soothingly, like he might to a skittish horse.

"It's _not_ fine," she snapped, and Link felt vaguely like they'd had this conversation before. "Of all the insensitive-"

"They didn't know," he interrupted gently, "and my scars don't bother me." The whispers did a little, he carefully did not say. _That_ , he was used to, and had been since he'd first drawn the Master Sword. Besides, the poor girl looked stressed enough.

"And if someone less... _well-adjusted_ ," she spoke the word as though disbelieving, "had been their target?" she sniped acidly.

Well, Link would hope the twins had better sense then that. They did not seem the mean-spirited sort. Still, he could see her point. He shrugged, willing to let her have the argument.

Harry had not spoken a word throughout their discussion. He sat motionless, transfixed, skin a little pale and gaze unfocused.

Link frowned. "Harry?"

The boy snapped out of his trance with a small shake of his head. "It's nothing."

"Do they really disturb you that much?" Link asked insistently, perturbed.

"No! It's just..." he trailed off, uncertain.

Link waited him out, blue stare focused patiently on the younger wizard. It struck him as funny that this is what it took to get the boy to open up. He was never letting the twins know.

Harry licked his lips before speaking, voice quiet and rushed. "It's just, all of these people, staring at you. Yet you're not bothered at all! And I..."

The hylian took pity on him. "Come with me," he offered, abandoning his plate with a mournful glance. As he stood, the whispers increased in intensity. Link ignored them with an ease born from years of practice, expression studiously blank.

Harry followed. From the corner of his eye, Link noticed Hermione and Ron exchanging a look. The girl shook her head and the redhead frowned, starting in slowly on his meal. They both looked dreadfully curious, but decided to respect their privacy. For that, Link was grateful. This talk would be hard enough as it was; Harry would likely clam up entirely were anyone else around. Link couldn't say he minded fewer presences either.

They'd barely reached an empty classroom when Harry whirled on him, blurting, "How d'you do it? How can you stand having that many people staring at you and talking about you and not care?"

Link crossed his arms, taking a moment to consider his reply. "It's difficult," he started slowly, "when the path your life takes is outside your control. When forces you can't control dictate what others think of you."

Harry blinked. "Yeah, it is."

"I was thirteen when I discovered my destiny," Link continued. "People looked at me differently after that. The ones I knew, the ones I didn't. I was alternately hailed a hero and reviled as the herald of Calamity." The hylian felt far away in that moment, drawn to memories he hadn't thought of in a long time. "The weight of all those expectations terrified me."

Harry visibly withheld a number of questions, settling on, "So what did you do?"

"I trained. Perhaps it would be better to say I _reacted_. I worked hard every single day to prove that I deserved what praise I got, that I was better than the words of those that would put me down. I pushed everything else aside, my friends, my family, even my own voice, to bear the burden of those expectations."

The younger wizard frowned. "That sounds..."

"Terrible," Link acknowledged. "The only thing I accomplished was pushing others away. You see, Harry, I had nothing to prove. What those people thought was not going to change no matter what I did or said.

"Even though you're doing so differently, you're trying the exact same thing. Trying to prove yourself to people that have already made up their minds."

"But then what do I _do_?!" Harry burst out, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Focus on the things you _can_ control. Do your work. Spend time with your friends. Better yourself for when Voldemort does put himself in the open. Don't let the thoughts of the masses dictate how you behave, Harry; you're the only one that can do that."

"It's not that simple. I just... I just get _so angry_ ," Harry growled helplessly. He kicked at a loose quill lying forgotten on the floor.

That was perhaps an understatement. Harry had been angry since Link first met him. Still though, he seemed to be listening. "There's a technique the Sheikah taught me once, to help me focus my thoughts and release unwanted emotion. It's been invaluable to me over the years; I think it can help you now. Would you like to learn?"

Green eyes watched Link carefully. "Yes."

Link nodded, relieved he no longer needed to talk about himself. This was easier. "Very well. The Sheikah practice the arts of inner peace and awareness of the self. To do so, you need clarity. What you need is to clear your mind of all distractions. Listen carefully..."

* * *

"Did you really run off for a serious talk in that getup?" Ron asked the moment they stepped into the common room. Link rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn't even thought about it.

Harry turned, nonplussed, to stare at the blond as though he'd just realized. "Have I been getting lessons from a guy in drag?" he sputtered. Their discussion must have had him _really_ preoccupied. Ron guffawed.

Link tugged at at his robe. It still wasn't moving from its open position. He had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't have been able to change had it occurred to him to do so. A quick pull at the knot in his tie confirmed that, yep, it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"How long do their pranks usually last?"

"Varies," Ron replied. "Could be seconds; could be days. No way to tell with those two."

Hermione scowled. "Professor McGonagall caught up with them in the Charms corridor," she said, grimly satisfied. "They've got detention for a week, _and_ she's written your mother, Ron."

He groaned. "Great. Those two're gonna be unbearable. So's mum. I'll bet you my Cleansweep she sends them a Howler."

"No bet," Harry muttered.

"Regardless," the busy-haired witch sniffed, "they had better apologize. They had no business airing your scars to half the student body. That was a terrible breach of privacy."

"I was hardly keeping them secret, Hermione," Link said dryly. "You just can't see them under the uniform." He wasn't ashamed of his scars, though he didn't exactly go around showing them off. They were certainly bad, even by Hyrule's standards, but they weren't remarkable either. Hyrule was dangerous. If you had no marks on your body, you were a child or a coward.

"How _did_ you get those scars?" Ron asked bluntly.

" _Ron_!"

"What? We were all thinking it!"

"That doesn't mean you should ask!" Hermione returned crossly. Harry groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose as though to stave off a headache.

Ron puffed himself up, indignant. "He _just said_ he didn't care."

"That is _not_ what he said!"

"Hermione, it's _fine_ ," Link interrupted desperately. The rising volume of their argument was causing his ears to ring.

She eyed the hylian sidelong. "Just because you can put up with tactless behavior doesn't mean you should." Goddess preserve, but she actually sounded concerned. Hermione was a fierce little guardian when confronted with a perceived injustice, wasn't she?

"Really, it's-"

"Fine?" she huffed. "It doesn't have to be, you know," she added with a pointed look.

Link stared at her for a long moment, perplexed. A hesitant glance at the boys revealed them to be just as confused. Alright, then. He fiddled absently with one of his topaz earrings, a nervous gesture he thought he'd dealt with years ago. He forced his hand back to his side. "So what did you want to know?"

Harry's green eyes flashed, lips twitching at the corners as though he were biting back a question. Ron interrupted before he could work up the nerve.

"Those were some bloody wicked scars, mate," Ron said, stuck on his earlier question. Link shifted uncomfortably.

"RON!"

"What did I say now?!"

Hermione threw her hands up in defeat.

"I got those scars when I died."

Harry's gaze snapped to Link, and the hylian belatedly recalled how the boy had gotten his iconic scar. Link frowned, knowing he needed to say something more, and so added reluctantly, "My wife and I were ambushed by servants of our enemy. I fell defending her. Thankfully Zelda finished them off."

He should probably have expected the maelstrom of questions that assailed him after that brief, inadequate explanation.

"But what do you mean, you died?!"

"Who was your enemy? Are you in some kind of danger?"

"Hold on, I thought you were our age! _What d'you mean, your wife_?"

Hyrule Castle's court had been like this, Link thought dimly, when he'd first drawn the Master Sword. He'd presented himself before the King, forced to sit through dozens questions about both himself and the sword that he didn't want to - or couldn't - answer.

These were much worse; all the darkest corners of his mind, all the things closest to his heart.

"Wait, that little girl," Harry blurted with a sudden flash of insight, "was she yours?"

Link felt his throat close up, unable to reply even had he wanted to. The rising discomfort had swelled into the type of anxiety Link hadn't felt in years, and he found himself unable to speak a word.

Zelda was nearly three months pregnant, now, and he'd been away from her side for a third of that time.

And what had he accomplished? He'd read a few books and learned a few parlor tricks, treating this whole mess as a vacation to distract himself from how lonely, how scared, he really was.

Like waking up a century displaced all over again. Only this time he stood to lose so much more.

Three pairs of eyes watched him carefully. "Link, are you alright?" He hadn't realized how fast he was breathing.

He closed his eyes. Deep breaths. ' _Center yourself_ ,' Link thought, ' _as the Sheikah taught you. Slow your breathing. Quiet your thoughts.'_

One, two, three, hold, one, two three, and release, one, two, three. The hylian repeated that cycle three times before opening his eyes. Hermione looked deeply concerned. _'Goddesses guide me,'_ he breathed a heartfelt prayer for the future, before focusing on the here and now.

"Here," he said, as though nothing had happened. Link slipped the Sheikah Slate out of his pack, deftly flicking the screen to the Compendium. He scrolled through the pictures, stopping at one he'd taken of a mobile guardian.

"Is that some kind of PDA?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed.

"Hermione, what?" Ron asked, baffled. He mimed kissing, making obnoxious smacking noises. Link wasn't sure of the accompanying crude hand gestures, and quickly decided he didn't want to know.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Ron. Personal Data Assistant, _not_ public display of affection. Though Merlin knows what _that_ was."

"You understood what I meant," the redhead shrugged unrepentantly.

"Anyway," the girl insisted, "PDA's are muggle technology, but electronics don't work at Hogwarts."

"Clearly this one does," Harry said dryly. He'd leaned forward for a closer look, unbothered by Hermione's assertion. The witch's curiosity overrode her objection and she followed suit. With Ron leaning over them it was very crowded around the little screen, but they made do.

Link, unsure what "Personal Data Assistant" meant, ignored Hermione's question. "That's a guardian," he pointed at the screen. The thing's blue eye was flashing menacingly; Link had been in the process of dodging laser-fire when he'd daringly snapped that picture. It had been during his first foray into Hyrule Field, trying to find one of the locations Zelda had left him, he recalled. He'd only barely made it out intact, but had managed to both recover a memory and activate a tower, so he counted it as a win. "Incredibly dangerous machines made thousands of years ago. We'd meant them to fight for us, but they were corrupted by Calamity Ganon." He flipped through more pictures, landing on the pair he'd taken of Ganon itself.

Zelda had called him an idiot more than once for taking those pictures. He couldn't find it in himself to disagree, as he'd nearly been skewered for the first, and on horseback dodging veritable seas of malignant flame for the second. In his defense, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Purah and Symin had appreciated it, anyway.

"Is that a flaming pig?" Ron squinted at the image. Link grinned wolfishly.

The hylian exited the Compendium, switching instead to the Album. He flashed an image of Hyrule Castle, steeped in Ganon's Malice, that he'd taken from Satori Mountain. "That was Calamity Ganon." He had another picture saved of the Castle after Ganon had been sealed, though that one had been taken from Dueling Peaks. It was probably the fastest way he could describe those long months (and one hundred years) of his quest to save Hyrule. He showed them the image. "It's not a problem anymore," he added, recalling Hermione's question. Hopefully not for another 10,000 years, anyway.

Link swiped at the screen to show one last picture. This last was Zelda as she'd been a little over a month ago, dressed in a replica of the practical trousers and champion's blue top she'd worn a century prior. Link was pressed to her side, arm draped around her hips, ear-tip brushing hers. Both were smiling brightly, a sight that had been increasingly common in the year after Calamity's defeat. Zelda's arm was up and out of the frame; she'd been the one to take the picture. That had been during one of their rare moments of privacy, directly after Link had learned...

Well. After he'd learned of her pregnancy.

His smile faded into a look of fierce longing. "My wife, Zelda," he said simply.

Hermione was giving him that concerned stare again. Link shoved the Slate into his pack. There was still an hour until curfew. "I'll be at the library," he informed her, and promptly made his escape.

* * *

The moment the Fat Lady's portrait swung shut Hermione rounded on the boys, a fevered curiosity lighting her eyes.

It was moments like this that Harry was slightly afraid of her. "What?"

"You don't have any questions?" she asked, disbelieving.

Of course he did. Link had showed them photographs, but his explanations had been lacking. What was Calamity Ganon? What were the guardians? How had they been corrupted? What was that PDA thing he'd used to show them pictures in the first place? If he had something like that then why didn't he know what an oven was, when they first met?

And Link's Boggart. Who was that little girl?

"You just got mad at me for asking questions!" Ron squawked indignantly.

Hermione shot him a withering glare. "No, I got mad at you for asking _insensitive_ ones." She sat back, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "But did either of you realize?"

"Realize what?" Ron asked.

"The photographs!" she exclaimed expectantly. Ron and Harry traded a glance.

"What, the big spider monster or the fiery pig? Hard not to notice, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. Harry had a distinct feeling of deja vu as she continued, "No, Ron, the background. The castle, the volcano. I've never seen such a place."

"I dunno 'bout you, 'Mione, but there's lots of places I haven't seen."

"I know you must have studied geography at some point, Ron," she sighed. "The topography of the landscapes we saw in his photos wasn't like anything on Earth. Not to mention the language. Didn't you see the script on his device?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "It's not that I don't believe you," he started, "but not like anything on Earth? Maybe where he's from is unplottable, like Snuffles' place." How did the girl notice these things?

"An entire continent?"

The boys were forced to concede the point.

"Besides, I've never heard of any technology like what he had either. And those guardians! They looked just like his... pad? Oh I wish he'd told us what it was. I mean, It worked _in Hogwarts_!" She was working herself into an excited frenzy, and Harry foresaw many trips to the library in their future.

Ron was clearly thinking along the same lines as he bore a clearly alarmed expression. "Hermione, it's only the third day of classes. Do you know how much homework we've got? Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Harry was in silent agreement. With all their schoolwork, his detentions, and Voldemort, he didn't have _time_ to worry about how weird their new friend was.

The bushy-haired witch bit her lip. "I suppose," she said in that way she did when she was absolutely going to do an insane amount of research either way.

"He didn't seem all that against telling us things, " Harry pointed out. That was something he could appreciate, especially after this summer. "Maybe we can catch him again later."

At that, Hermione shot him an incredulous look. "No, I don't think we should bother him with our questions unless we absolutely have to. He was really upset."

About the boggart, maybe, Harry thought. Hermione's mulish expression forbade him arguing, though, and either way Ron was right. They had enough to worry about.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione startled. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

And now he was late for detention. Marvelous.

* * *

Link signed his name on yet another essay, shaking his hand to relieve it of an awful cramp. He'd never needed to write much before; even after he'd married into the royal family, Zelda had been content managing most of their political maneuvers, which included legislation and long-distance communication. Link primarily took care of training new soldiers and organizing Hyrule's defenses, though he also took care of much of the face-to-face communication with the different races on Zelda's behalf when she was unable. The process was made simpler by his ability to warp with the Slate and personal friendships with key players across the kingdom, but meant whatever writing he accomplished was through typing on the Slate while on the move.

All that meant he did not write fast. So he was just finishing up homework even he wasn't exempt from, about to start in on a new text from the restricted section, when Harry dragged himself into the common room. Ron followed close behind, furious.

Link set the book aside. "What is it?"

"That Umbridge woman's a real piece of work, is what," Ron glowered. "Look at his hand!"

Though Harry moved to cover it the instant Ron spoke, he wasn't fast enough to escape Link's gaze. Thin, angry red lines scrawled along the back of it, flecked with dried blood. "What happened?" he asked, aghast. He'd promised both Dumbledore and Lupin to watch over the boy, but he'd been so caught up in books and schoolwork that he was already failing.

"Umbridge's detention," Harry explained sullenly. A quill that carved into the skin of the author as they wrote? Link had never heard of such a thing, and to be used as _punishment_? He'd underestimated how petty and foul the woman would be.

"Come here," Link commanded. It was the same tone he used on his knights, and Harry obeyed before he really noticed what he was doing. Link took hold of Harry's wrist, holding his left palm over the words carved into his skin. There lingered a chill of darkness in the spidery cuts. A soft white light began to shine from Link's hand, and Harry gasped.

"What is that?" he asked in wonder. Link almost smiled. He'd felt much the same the first time Mipha had used her gift on him, back when he was but a child of a mere four years.

The painful cuts slowly closed and faded into nothing. Mipha had not been a goddess, could not heal death, but her gift was such that cuts would heal over in seconds, clean breaks in a matter of minutes. The more severe the wound, the more time it took. It would always take Link longer to heal than it had taken Mipha, but such a small injury was restored in under a minute.

Though her spirit no longer lingered within the magic, Link felt warm at its use. The faint chill had dissipated entirely. No trace of the wound was left.

"That's amazing," Harry said, the same instant Ron blurted, "Wicked!" The green-eyed wizard inspected the back of his hand, mouth agape. "But how?"

"Mipha's Grace," Link said softly. "This was the magic a dear friend left to me when she passed. It's saved my life countless times since," he explained. To do any less would be a disservice to her memory.

"Thanks," Harry breathed.

"Please don't hesitate to come to me if something like this happens again," Link insisted, blue gaze serious.

The younger wizards traded a glance. "Hate to break it to ya, mate, but he's got another detention tomorrow."

"And another three next week," Harry added gloomily, "because I was late yesterday."

"You mean McGonagall and Dumbledore put up with this?" Neither seemed the type, and weren't they in charge of the school? Surely one of the boys had said something, and either the headmaster or his deputy were working to put a stop to it?

"They don't exactly know," Harry hedged.

"I see," Link said flatly. He'd just gotten rid of the evidence, too.

"I don't think they could do anything about it anyway," Harry added hastily. "That toad works for the ministry. As long as Fudge keeps her in power she's going to keep doing what she wants no matter what the other teachers think."

Link nodded slowly, inwardly plotting. Harry was his charge, his safety his priority. That quill would not last.

He stood abruptly, sliding his text into his pack. "I'll see you in the morning," he said to their startled faces, and swept out of the portrait hole.

It took Link perhaps five minutes to change into his Sheikah gear and make his way to Umbridge's office. The door was open, so he took the opportunity to slink inside, keeping to the shadows. Umbridge, at her desk, didn't notice.

She left for bed perhaps an hour later, papers graded and neatly stacked. That was good. The more organized someone was, the easier it was to not only find their belongings, but also to replace them. The following ten minutes were devoted to opening drawers and filing cabinets, quickly examining their contents.

One particular drawer held missives to and from the ministry, and Link skimmed through them without hurry. There was more than one complaint about Dumbledore, Harry, and a few entirely baseless suspicions as to their activities. Some of the letters were not so innocent however, and Link made a mental note to tell Harry to watch what he wrote. A final letter, from the minister himself it seemed, was a smugly-worded notice that Umbridge would be receiving a new job within the next few days, as planned, and proved the boys' worries about the woman's relative power over the school right. It further explained that more changes to Hogwarts were forthcoming, dependant on Umbridge's reports from her new position. That particular missive Link snapped a photo of to show Hermione.

It took another couple of minutes to locate the infamous blood-letting quill, on top of a thin box in her top desk drawer, where she'd made no attempt to hide it at all. The hylian almost rolled his eyes at himself, given that he'd wasted so much time looking everywhere but the obvious. Link slid the quill out of the drawer, examining it quietly. Save for the color and sharpness, it looked like an ordinary quill. What truly made it different was the dark chill he could feel emanating from it, the same he'd felt in Harry's wound. He felt vaguely ill just holding it, and wondered if Harry had felt the same.

Before he put the quill back he opened the box that was underneath, raising a brow when he saw two identical quills placed neatly inside, though one lacked the foreboding darkness the others had. Underneath the quills were a stack of hand-written notes. Link slid the parchments out, frowning as he scanned the witch's neat, precise writing.

They were notes on the quills' construction. She had actually deliberately designed an instrument of torture, Link realized as he read further, specifically to punish those under her authority. _Any_ infraction was to be punished in this manner, which meant she wasn't operating under her disproportionate enmity with Harry. It wasn't the ministry's directive that she act in such a way; just her own twisted personality.

That was good to know. Link set aside that information for future consideration, snapping clear pictures of every single page of notes, and then of the quills themselves. He closed the box.

Link carefully replaced every item he'd moved and slunk back out of Umbridge's office.

He didn't know how many students were currently under fire from Umbridge, but term had just started, so it probably wasn't many. Link fully intended to destroy the quills, but if he moved now the witch would surely blame Harry. First, he had to ensure suspicion would be cast on someone else.

There was no question as to who. Link himself would take the blame, which meant he first needed to do something that warranted detention. That in itself should not be difficult, but he'd rather a swift response than the detention delayed until Harry's were finished. It would have to be something fairly drastic then.

Link considered his options for a long moment. Voldemort was a topic that would ensure trouble, but would also undoubtedly involve Harry. The boy had only meditated once; he was no master over his emotions yet, and nothing invoked his temper like a mention of the evil wizard. A less severe offense would also work, but not as fast as he liked. What to do? ...Oh.

He had just the thing.

Fifth-year Gryffindors had Double Defense on Mondays, their only DADA class all week. While that meant Harry would have to suffer through tomorrow's torture session, it also meant Link could enact his plan during class Monday, before the next round of detentions.

He just needed to do one final thing before then.

The hylian swiftly made his way back to the common room, climbing the stairs not to the fifth-year dorm, but the seventh. While the majority of the students were asleep, two particular boys were unsurprisingly awake.

Fred and George were surprisingly cooperative, and followed after Link curiously with no more than a quiet gesture. When they reached the common area they offered Link guilty expressions. "Look mate, if this is about yesterday, we a _re_ sorry," George said.

"We weren't trying to be jerks," Fred added, "just wanted to have a bit of fun, is all. Didn't think about what exactly you'd be showing off there."

"Won't do it again, we solemnly swear," George finished.

Link smirked. "Actually," he said, "I would like you to show me how."


	5. Chapter 5

Friday passed with more excitement than Link was expecting. Gryffindor tower was abuzz with celebration over some sport the hylian hadn't the faintest idea about, and Ron was caught up in the middle of it all. Link would have been more interested in it (they were flying, after all, even if it was on brooms), if he'd had the time. As it was, all his spare hours were devoted to research that was going frustratingly slow. He healed Harry's hand that evening, and that was that.

Saturday came and went more quietly, all of them gaining some breathing room without more classes adding extra homework to the already towering pile they had accumulated. Link was finally able to show Hermione the letter he'd found in Umbridge's office, and though she'd pursed her lips in thought ultimately they could do nothing about it. Ron and Harry spent the rest of the day out in the refreshingly clear weather, distracted by their sports, while Link alternated between his research and studying the set of spells Fred and George had taught him Thursday night.

Sunday however, was where the trouble started. Though the day itself went by with little fanfare, that evening Percy's owl arrived bearing nothing but trouble. And then Sirius, of all people, decided to risk appearing at Hogwarts. (Link was not sure he'd get over seeing someone's dislocated head suddenly appearing in a fire anytime soon.) The man had been so pleased at getting to talk with his godson, he seemed to have forgotten the risks inherent in doing so, not only to himself, but to anyone caught speaking with him. Not only that, he was actively encouraging dangerous behavior in the trio. Hermione and Harry at least had the sense to dissuade the man of a truly reckless outing to the neighboring village of Hogsmeade.

The hylian wondered if Lupin were aware of Sirius' behavior, and if he wasn't, how Link could notify him.

So it was that Monday arrived to see all of them stressed out to some degree, a condition made worse by Umbridge's appointment as "High Inquisitor."

All the more reason, Link thought, to go through with his plan. Readying his wand, he waited just out of sight, casting Fred and George's prank spells on himself. He hoped they wore off faster this time though; he'd prefer not sleeping like this.

He waited until the last moment, well after the rest of the class had trickled inside, took a deep breath, and strode through the door.

Umbridge nearly dropped her wand. Hermione did, in fact, drop her book.

"Mr. Hyrule!" Umbridge squawked, "What on earth are you wearing?"

Link made a show of glancing down at himself, pleased to note he had gotten the attention of the entire room. He was wearing the exact outfit Fred and George had designed for him last Wednesday, with the addition of his hair being done up in pigtails. "Why professor," he replied, faux innocence all but dripping from his voice, "isn't this what you asked me to wear last week?"

There was a poignant silence that lasted for a full minute before the class burst into raucous laughter. The ministry witch turned the same blotchy red she had last Monday. She seemed quite speechless as Link sauntered to his place by Hermione, sitting as primly as he could. "What," the girl asked in a loud whisper, "are you _doing_?" Link tossed her a bland smile.

"I did no such thing!" Umbridge finally sputtered over the noise, outraged.

"But you said to wear the appropriate uniform," Link said, tilting his head just so, expression infuriatingly innocent.

" _That travesty is in no way appropriate for any occasion,_ Mr. _Hyrule_ ," she bit out furiously. "Get changed into your regular uniform _immediately_! and I'll expect you in my office tonight for detention at _five o'clock sharp_."

"Oh," Link said, tipping his head back. "I'm afraid I can't. Change, that is," he added, offering no explanation. And he genuinely couldn't, not for another few hours at least. He wondered if he'd have to serve detention in this outfit.

Umbridge reddened so much she was practically purple. "Out! Get out, and don't come back until you've remembered how to dress! _Thirty points from Gryffindor_!" she all but shrieked. Link sketched her a deliberately bemused smile before shrugging and making his way back out the door. He probably shouldn't take so much enjoyment in her anger, but the woman deserved it, as far as he was concerned.

Despite himself, Link was truly amused at the ruckus he'd caused. Though pranks had never been of particular interest to him, Link found himself winking playfully at Harry as he left, just to see the look on his face. The boy didn't disappoint, full on gawking at the hylian.

Link hummed cheerfully as he walked to the library, already knowing how he was going to use the free hour. He loved it when a plan came together.

* * *

Link's time in the library passed unfruitfully. He'd skimmed through a few dozen texts over the past week, selecting only a few for more in-depth perusal, though if he were being honest, none seemed especially promising. He had been in one world, now another, and with very little in the way of warning. What sort of information could point him home?

Madame Pince's pinched expression worsened as he returned his old tomes and checked out a few more, every one of them from the restricted section. Dumbledore had given the hylian free reign over the library, and though Link knew the value of books and treated them well, the woman still gave him evil looks whenever he left with a new set.

By the time he left it was a quarter after four. Link hastened to the Great Hall. Detention was at five, and he would likely need a hearty meal if he were to sit through it.

The hylian bee-lined toward his usual spot next to Hermione, fully aware that his own prank spells, which had yet to wear off, were causing something of a disturbance. Thankfully Umbridge was not seated with the rest of the teachers, likely in her office, and was therefore unable to... well, take umbrage at his defiance of her orders.

"Weasley!" McGonagall's bellow could have been heard across the castle. Ron jumped, though her ire was directed at the twins.

"It wasn't us!" George cried, hands up in appeasement. Fred nodded enthusiastically. McGonagall was probably the only professor they drew a line with, and she'd already written their mother.

Link waved at the transfiguration master casually. "It's fine!" he hollered. She cast the redheads a lingering glare and reluctantly settled back to her dinner.

Hermione rounded on him the instant McGonagall looked away. "What on earth did you think you were doing?!" she hissed in the tone of someone whose expectations had been thoroughly betrayed. "Why did you draw so much attention to yourself? Umbridge is High Inquisitor, now. What if she expels you?" Link didn't think she had that much power over the school yet, but conceded the point.

"She's going to make your life absolutely miserable, mate," Ron nodded, for once agreeing with his female friend.

Harry, who had remained silent until that moment, asked with startling perceptiveness, "This is about that quill, isn't it?" He kept his tone quiet, sparing a quick glance at their neighbors. They were all too occupied with their meals and their friends to much care what they were talking about. Link's stomach growled. He didn't blame them.

Hermione frowned. "What quill?"

Harry looked away, unable to meet her gaze. It was Ron who finally filled her in. "When he told us she was having him write lines, he forgot to mention she was using a quill that carved them into his hand."

"Harry!" she cried softly, aghast. "Why wouldn't you tell us?"

He frowned. "Well there's not much you can do about it, is there?!" he asked loudly. He probably did not mean to sound so cross. Link stamped on his foot regardless.

"Ouch!" Harry glared. Link shot him a pointed look and breathed deliberately slowly. Realization crossed the boy's face and he sat back sullenly. ' _One, two, three,'_ he counted silently as Harry inhaled. _'Hold,'_ the boy paused, _'and release.'_ The green-eyed wizard exhaled. Hermione watched curiously as Harry repeated the process a few times.

"Well, was it?" he asked perhaps a minute later, sounding a touch calmer. "To do with the quill?"

Like a dog with a bone, these three. "Yes," he admitted freely, taking a generous scoop of roasted carrots from one of the golden plates. Maybe if he just went at it, they'd let him eat?

The trio waited expectantly and Link nearly sighed under the weight of their combined stares. "I'm going to get rid of them," he shrugged. "I don't want her blaming anyone not responsible."

"You mean me," Harry said flatly, an odd expression crossing his face. It was gone a heartbeat later.

Link merely shrugged again, spearing a bit of fish with his fork.

"Wait a minute, 'them'?" Ron asked, indignant. "She's got more than one?"

The hylian nodded. "Three, as far as I know." He frowned. "Two and a half? Apparently she makes them herself."

"How d'you know that?"

"I snuck in her office."

"Is _that_ where you went on Thursday?" Harry asked.

Hermione groaned. "I should have known. How else would you have seen that letter? Why on earth did I expect you to be any _less_ reckless than these two?" The poor girl sounded utterly despairing.

"What letter?" Ron cut in.

"It was about Umbridge's appointment as High Inquisitor," the witch waved him off. "More importantly, what good is getting rid of the quills going to do if she just makes more?"

At that, Link lit up, gesturing the three to come closer. They huddled around him in a curtain of black robes as he discreetly slid the Sheikah Slate out of his pack. He flipped through the last series of pictures he'd taken in the toad-woman's office and Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "It will do a world of good," he said, eyes gleaming predatorily, "because I'll have all her handwritten notes on how to make them."

"Blackmail?" Ron breathed. He sounded terribly excited. Hermione hushed him.

Link grinned ferally.

* * *

Harry waited in tense anticipation that night, long after their shared detention was over. Link had kicked up a huge fuss in the middle of his lines, shouting about how awful the woman was. Umbridge had given them a sticky-sweet smile in return, merely assigning the elfin boy another detention the next night. A discreet wink let Harry know the entire event was an act, meant to further draw Umbridge's attention to the blond.

Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about that. Sure, his friends had gone behind his back to protect him before, most notably Hermione in their third year, but something about Link, a person he'd known less than two months, going so far out of his way to defend him didn't sit right with the wizard.

The clock ticked on past eleven. Hermione had long since given up attempting to force the boys into focusing on homework, too distracted herself to accomplish much. The trio sat in the plush red chairs by the crackling fire, books closed, listening to the seconds tick by.

"Feels different, this waiting around," Ron said what they were all thinking. Harry pursed his lips, a flicker of anger igniting in his gut. He'd wanted to go too, but Link had refused. Harry had been all set to tag along anyway, under the safety of his Invisibility Cloak, but Ron, of all people, had put a stop to it. "It won't work," he'd said apologetically. "Too many people sneaking around just doesn't work, 'specially not if they're going about it separately; just ask Fred and George." Harry had thought mulishly about all the times the trio had snuck out together, the steadily decreasing space under his cloak, and was forced to agree. That didn't mean he had to like it.

Hermione nodded absently. The last of their fellow house-mates had trickled out of the common room a little under an hour ago, leaving the three in tense silence.

"You don't think anything's gone wrong, do you?" the redhead questioned.

Harry frowned. Hermione shook her head. "I'll bet Umbridge has only just gone to bed," she said uncertainly. "He's probably not had the opportunity to do anything yet."

Another few minutes passed. Harry resisted the urge to fidget. Ron was not so disciplined. His leg bounced. He flipped uselessly through his textbook. He ran his fingers through his bright hair. Any moment now Harry expected him to burst out of his chair in a flurry of pent-up motion.

"Please stop," Hermione begged. "You're making me anxious."

Ron stopped. A scant few minutes later though, and he was right back at it.

The sound of the Fat Lady's portrait swinging open made them all jump. _'Thank Merlin,'_ Harry thought, relieved. Any longer and one of them would have snapped.

Link slid through the portrait hole wearing skin-tight armor dyed with a muted crimson eye, a lone tear trailing down his stomach. The symbol was a little creepy, Harry thought, but Link seemed proud to wear it.

The elfin blond offered up a thin wooden box. Hermione took it gingerly, and when opened, it contained three ebon quills, laid neatly atop a stack of parchment. "Some of these notes are very... personal," she said quietly, skimming through the papers.

Link nodded smugly. "A lot of bigoted drivel," he said. "But there are phrases that leave no doubt as to the author." Umbridge had unfortunately not been stupid enough to sign such documents, Harry mused as he peered over Hermione's shoulder. But Link was right. She had included plenty of personal references and anecdotes; enough to be damning in the right hands. The quills were dark magic. These papers had the potential to put Umbridge in Azkaban, and Harry said as much.

Hermione bit her lip. "Should we, though?" she asked. At the boys' looks she added hastily, "What if Fudge sends someone even worse, next?"

"So, what, you want to hold this over her head until she just up and leaves? Eventually she's gonna do something about it, 'Mione," Ron insisted warily.

"No, Hermione has a point," Link spoke up then. "With this we should have limited control over Umbridge, which is better than risking a complete unknown." He glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "If all else fails, you can send that to the right people to put her away, right Hermione?"

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Link nodded and held out his hand. "I'll keep ahold of them for now."

Harry couldn't help but bristle slightly. He felt more secure with it in their hands. "What for?"

"In case Umbridge searches our rooms," he said casually. Harry froze. "I keep my pack on me at all times, and it's protected by Korok magic. She won't be able to see it, let alone get into it."

"You're wearing a pack?" Hermione blinked. "Right now?" Her eyes skimmed over armor that left very little to the imagination, slipping over the little bag without pause. She seemed in agreement though, and handed over the box without hesitation.

"Search our rooms?" Ron repeated, alarmed. "Harry, your cloak."

Harry nodded worriedly, thoughts spinning wildly. Umbridge was not likely to give them any warning, and if she had the power to search their rooms she could also search their pockets.

Shit, why hadn't he thought of that before? His dad's cloak, Harry thought with a rising sense of panic. What else did he have that Umbridge was likely to take? The Marauder's Map, if she were clever enough to discover what it was. The penknife Sirius had gifted him last year.

What should he do? All of those things were irreplaceable, and the thought of them in Umbridge's hands left him feeling physically ill. For a brief instant Harry hated Link for putting him in this position.

Link. Hadn't he said his pack was invisible to Umbridge? Harry could see it easily, but Hermione, at least, could not. "Ron," he asked quietly, "can you see his pack?"

Ron squinted. "No?"

"There, on his hip." Link tilted his head at them curiously.

Ron shook his head, clearly wondering where this was going. "No, mate, I can't. Is this gonna be like those horse things?"

To be honest, Harry had forgotten them entirely. He shook his head. They didn't matter right now.

"You can see it?" Link asked.

"Yeah," Harry frowned.

"That's rare. Koroks are forest spirits that can only be seen by a few, and that includes things protected by their magic. They've enchanted my pack many, many times," he mused. "Or Hestu has, anyway."

'Koroks?' Hermione mouthed, brows furrowed in thought.

Harry ignored her, thoughts awhirl. They'd only known Link for a few weeks, he reminded himself, the majority of which he'd spent sequestered in the Black family library. But in that span of time he'd saved Harry's life, and had gone out of his way to keep protecting him. He shared information with them freely, even things as serious as blackmailing a ministry employee. He knew about Sirius and the Order. He'd even become something of a friend.

But could he be trusted?

Harry bit his lip. He thought of the precious few items his family, his _father and godfather_ , had entrusted to him, and made a decision. "How much can your pack hold, exactly?"

* * *

The next day dawned bright and early, and for once didn't leave Harry with a sense of lingering dread. They'd agreed the night before to finish out the week's detentions; now that the quills were gone, there was relatively little the ministry witch could do. Let her wonder where her quills had gone. They'd save their capital for when they really needed it.

Umbridge, for once, was present in the Great Hall for breakfast. Her girlish smile was nowhere to be seen, an ugly look of rage barely contained on her features.

"You think she's noticed they're gone?" Ron hissed lowly.

Hermione shushed him. "I don't doubt it."

"Oh," Link said serenely as he walked and flipped through a book simultaneously. "She might not have."

Harry eyed him as he slipped onto one of the long benches, taking in the mouth-watering scents wafting from the table.

A Hogwarts owl fluttered down in front of him, daintily dropping a slip of parchment next to Harry's plate. Harry blinked in surprise, taking a quick glance to either side, noticing an owl had similarly touched down in front of Link. He picked up the slip, tossing the bird a bit of sausage before it flew off.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Due to extenuating circumstances, your detentions have been transferred to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom until further notice._

The brief note was signed by Umbridge, with as many ostentatious titles as she could cram onto it. Her handwriting wasn't the neat, precise script he was used to however. The letters were a little wobbly, as though her hands had been shaking with nerves. Or, more likely, anger.

Harry paused, eyebrows raised. "What did you do?" he asked lowly.

Link only shot him a smug look, putting his book away and tucking in to a small mountain of food. Like he did every day. Harry wasn't sure how the elfin blond ate so much. He was _tiny_.

Harry couldn't help himself. The curiosity was just too much, so he excused himself from breakfast early with the flimsy excuse of having forgotten a textbook. Striding quickly out of the Hall, he made his way to the third floor corridor where Umbridge's office was located.

The door, or rather, doorway, for the entire object had been torn off its hinges, was cordoned off by floating red tape. Harry gawked openly at the further destruction he could see inside. The horrid kitten plates had been shattered and strewn about, vases tipped, and doilies torn. A large filing cabinet in the back corner had been upended, drawers pulled and contents dumped carelessly across the floor.

Most notably however, was her desk. The large, thick wood had been splintered straight down the middle. The whole thing had collapsed inward, and laid in two rough halves on the floor. It was as though someone had taken something very large and very heavy and smashed it right into the desk. The sheer amount of force that would have taken had to be immense, Harry thought dimly.

Then he looked closer, noting large black streaks marking the room at random. Scorch marks. Small, but wherever they touched were piles of ash, and some of the loose stone chipped from the walls had actually heated to glass.

Link did not do things by halves, did he?

Harry booked it, absolutely sure the last thing he wanted to do was be caught loitering around the scene of the crime.

He got to the Transfiguration room with time to spare. Link had also left early, it seemed, as he was having a quiet chat with Professor McGonagall. She looked exasperated, perhaps a little angry? It was difficult to tell.

"-risk a more insidious presence. Keep it close," she was saying. "That's probably the wisest course of action," she added, pained, "though don't expect me to condone... Mr. Potter, you're here unusually early."

Link didn't give any indication he was startled by his presence, merely waved at him in a friendly manner. Harry wanted to ask what that had been about, but a most unwelcome presence strode into the class with as much self-importance as she could muster before he could so much as utter a word. When Umbridge caught sight of Link a glare of raw hatred crossed her face, and she visibly struggled to control herself. She was perfectly aware of who had trashed her office, of that he was sure. He was equally certain she had no proof though, as she forcefully blanked her expression and stalked to the corner of the room, quill clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

Professor McGonagall didn't bother acknowledging her presence, merely directing the boys to their seats.

The rest of the fifth-year class started trickling in and Harry only needed a moment to recall why Umbridge would be there, and when he did he could hardly contain his glee.

Umbridge was going to evaluate Transfiguration. This would be _brilliant_.

* * *

The next two and a half weeks were a waiting game. Umbridge had outwardly calmed down, and Link ensured no less than perfect behavior in the following two DADA lessons. Though she kept a wary eye on him, Link gave her no reason to inflict any sort of punishment, not that her preferred methods were available. In fact, their last few detentions had been reduced to _actually_ writing lines, this time with normal quills. She'd kept them late into the night out of some kind of petty revenge, but Harry and Link had been too gleeful over their shared success to be much bothered.

Despite this, they couldn't force Umbridge to actually teach. Hermione's ensuing discussion with Harry about him possibly teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting. Hearing Ron and Hermione list the younger wizard's accomplishments like that had been both enlightening and sad, Link reflected. He knew what it was like, when the next second meant live-or-die, both for yourself and others. What it felt to have your entire life be dictated by a destiny out of your control. More than that, he had intimate knowledge of what it felt to fail.

Hopefully that was a lesson Harry would never have to learn.

While the boy - no, young man, dithered over whether or not to go along with Hermione's suggestion, Link had occupied himself with research. He'd come across a book entitled _'Myths of the Other_ ,' whose summary appeared vaguely promising, though Link didn't dare hope for much. He flipped idly through the text before freezing, staring intently at the words printed in crisp black ink.

 _'...One such mystery to be followed are the rumors of gateways that have supposedly existed across the globe for as long as wizard-kind have walked the earth. Reports on these so-called gateways vary wildly. Witnesses claim to have alternately seen mirrors that reflect only darkness, brilliant springs of holy light, or ancient flames that have burned for eons without pause. Some claim to have seen nothing at all, merely heard whispers as though across vast distances._

 _The only consistent description has been the use of the word 'otherworldly' over and over again, which has led to some conviction that there exists in these sites gateways between our world and others. Indeed there exist such rumors that the mysterious Dementors of Azkaban once traveled through one of these gateways; a veil that appears only in tales which pre-date the founding of the Ministry of Magic._

 _When questioned, then Minster for Magic Ignatius Tuft (in office 1959-1962) insisted that such rumors were ludicrous, and that "all evidence points to Dementors being ordinary magical creatures... and can be bred like any other beast we make use of," though he was later forced out of office due to these controversial beliefs._

 _Unfortunately, as no witch or wizard has ever managed to revisit such sites, nor lead others there through description, there remains little evidence as to what exactly they are. Are they indeed gateways between worlds? Is this mysterious veil truly where Dementors came from?_

 _The only constant about these sites, it seems, is the persistence of rumors of their existence...'_

Link hummed thoughtfully. Dementors. That was the name of the monsters that had appeared in Gerudo Desert, was it not? If they had first come through a gateway, or had access to one they could go through, that might just explain their appearance in Hyrule. And if _they_ had a gateway, then he should be able to make use of it as well... right?

Unfortunately, the book mentioned little else about these mysterious gateways, and remained inconclusive about their existence in the first place. Link sighed, setting the tome aside. All of this reading was giving him a headache.

"Oh, Link, there you are," Hermione said as she strode into the library. "Are you ready? It's time to go."

That's right. It was the first weekend of October, and coincidentally the first weekend upper years were allowed to visit the neighboring village of Hogsmeade. Hermione was especially anxious about this trip.

"Did he finally agree then?" Link asked. She had been planning a meeting with a couple dozen other students there if all went to plan. The young witch had been scouting them out for a while now, aided by Ron.

She nodded nervously.

The trip didn't take very long, and soon Hermione had led them to a dirty pub with sign emblazed _'Hog's Head'_ just over the door. It looked half-like some of the abandoned ruins scattered across Hylrule, and the entire building seemed to groan with protest as they entered.

Link eyed the bar's other occupants warily. Each of them matched the grimy nature of the bar, draped in shadows and dirt. His ears twitched as the pair of veiled witches in the back started up their conversation again. He was sure he'd heard that voice before...

"Shady" was perhaps the only fitting word for the entire scenario.

Harry seemed to agree, though was quickly distracted by the thick crowd of students bustling inside in short order. There were twenty-five in all, and the green-eyed wizard went a little pale. He clearly hadn't expected the sheer number of students he had unwittingly agreed to teach.

The meeting proceeded more-or-less as planned and, with only a few minor interruptions, they all agreed to learn from Harry. Though there was the matter of times and locations still to be decided. In any case, though he'd gotten close, Harry hadn't lost his temper, and had even been somewhat heartened by the quantity of students that believed in him. Link had paid the bare minimum of attention, distracted by the niggling question of the witch's voice.

"Mundungus!" Link exclaimed under his breath. Because "she" wasn't a witch at all. He absently scrawled his name across the parchment Hermione passed around, missing the girl's thoughtful frown entirely. Fletcher must have been guarding Harry again, although why they still trusted him with the job after all that fuss over summer was a mystery.

"Link," Hermione interjected, "what did you just write?"

He shifted his focus back to the meeting, glancing at the parchment, where his name was written in Hylian script. "Sorry," he said, reaching out to fix it. Writing in English took some focus no matter what, but Lupin's spell was likely also wearing off. He'd taught it to Link as soon as he had a fair grasp of wand-work, and the hylian had been casting it periodically for weeks now. The more he used the spell the less he needed it, but for now his grasp of English was still pretty fragmented.

Hermione hesitated a moment, licking her lips once nervously before adding, "Also, while we're all here, I would like to propose that we learn some manner of - of physical self-defense."

A few of the students glanced around, muttering uncertainly. "Well what good would that do?" Zacharias Smith voiced. He seemed content with his role of asking questions no one else wanted to.

Link raised a brow, feeling vaguely insulted. "There are plenty of things you can do without a wand that will be helpful in a fight. Learning to dodge, for one, or fall properly, or even keeping up with multiple opponents." He forcefully reminded himself that these were untrained children, for the most part. And wizards as a whole, from what he'd observed, did not greatly value physical activity.

"Does _Harry_ know any of this?" Michael Corner asked.

"I don't think he does. Who would teach us anyway?" That was Dean.

"Learning to _fall_?" Zacharias again.

"Well, yes," Hermione interrupted hastily. "Those are great questions, but we do actually have someone here who knows these things." She smiled tremulously at Link, and instantly 27 other pairs of eyes snapped to him.

The hylian tossed the girl a flat glare.

"No offense, mate, but we all know what sorts of things Harry can do," Terry Boot started, "but we've never heard about you. Aside from, well, the... the crossdressing thing," he added uncomfortably.

Fred made a suspicious coughing noise. George thumped him hard on the back.

"He saved my life just this August," Harry said quietly, instantly silencing the group. "And he didn't cast a single spell."

That started the whispers up again, but Ernie Macmillan spoke over them all. "I'm game if you are. We've already decided learning to defend ourselves is most important. This could be just the edge that we need."

That got a few nods and murmurs of assent, though the response wasn't as enthusiastic as the one they'd given Harry. Given that wizards didn't seem to prioritize physical ability much, Link wasn't particularly surprised.

"Link?" Hermione asked expectantly.

He nodded slowly, feeling more than a little cornered. At least it was for a good cause?

She smiled. "Then it's settled."

There seemed to be nothing else to discuss. Students got up in clusters, placing chairs back and discarding empty butterbeer bottles. The groups started trickling out of the pub, satisfied with the plans they'd all made.

Link stared, nonplussed. What had just happened?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here ya go; a slightly longer chapter for y'all! There's a teensy little reference to the Twilight Princess manga in this chapter, since the last time I played the game was about a decade ago (yep, original Game Cube only)... and I read the manga about two weeks ago. I'm hoping my research and recollections are consistent with the actual game, given that I spent far too long watching cut-scenes to make this and future chapters as accurate as possible. If there's anything glaringly wrong, please let me know!

Enjoy! :)

* * *

Hermione remained pleased with herself until she saw the notice posted in their common room next Monday.

"What should we do?" Ron asked with a meaningful glance at Link.

The young witch bit her lip. "I don't know that we should use that just yet," she replied uncertainly. "If we tip our hand too early..."

"Put it this way," Harry interrupted. "She's not letting us learn how to defend ourselves, so we're going to continue with our "study group" regardless. If we're caught and expelled, then how are we expected to defend ourselves at all? The ministry will have snapped our wands. You and I could go to Snuffles' place, but what about someone like Colin, who has muggle parents and no Order?"

"Yes," she replied slowly. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

That started a brief but fierce argument over how exactly they were going to move against Umbridge. It would be better, they agreed, if she didn't know who exactly was holding the threat over her head.

"I'll leave a note on her desk tonight," Link said calmly.

"Oh, but you can't just write a note!" Hermione fretted. "What if she recognizes your handwriting?"

Umbridge was already more than a little suspicious of Link, but he relented under Hermione's good sense. The plan, from there, was simple. Hermione would collect her daily newspaper, and after classes they would find somewhere to discreetly cut letters out of it until they could form a simple message.

 _'You're overreaching your authority."_ The note would be unsigned, of course, but would include a copy of one of the personal notes Link had lifted from the toad-woman's office. A duplication spell performed by Hermione and timed to wear off a little after breakfast would take care of that.

The plan was somewhat derailed when a bedraggled Hedwig limped into History. Link only heard about it afterward, as he'd been in the library at the time, but Harry informed him in a strained voice that Snuffles was going to visit that night. They were of course concerned about Hedwig, and the fact that their mail was so obviously being intercepted, but most concerning was Sirius' expected presence.

Link could understand the need for action, but he was also a trained soldier. First a member of royal guard, then the princess' personal knight. He knew what he was doing, knew what an acceptable risk was. Sirius was being reckless. The man risked not only his own capture, but severe consequences for those in his charge.

"What if whoever intercepted Hedwig checks our fireplace tonight?" Hermione frowned, more than a little concerned.

"I don't see how they could know," Ron pointed out. "That letter was pretty vague."

"'Tonight' is pretty specific, Ron," the witch returned scathingly. "And everyone knows who Hedwig belongs to. It doesn't take much to put two and two together."

"Surely Gryffindor common room doesn't have the only fireplace in the castle," Link reminded them flatly.

"Let's find an unused classroom then," Harry said wearily. "No portraits, no teachers, no one but us. We can find an empty fireplace and call Snuffles first."

"We don't have any floo powder," Ron groaned. "And I doubt the classrooms' fires are connected to the floo network."

"Right," said Harry, frowning in thought. "We can get some from one of the teachers' offices though, can't we? Their fireplaces should be connected, too."

"Harry, you can't be suggesting we steal from one of the professors! And don't you dare use their fireplace! You don't need to be connected to the network to stick your head in." That explained why Sirius had been able to call the first time, actually, Link mused. If people could just pop in and out of students' dorms whenever they pleased that would be real problem.

"Fine, we'll use a classroom then!" Harry snapped. The boy then proceeded to ignore Hermione's complaint over his planned petty crime, undeterred. "Link, we'll need my cloak."

Link handed over the object then hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should go with them or not. To be fair, sneaking about the castle was not exactly difficult, even without invisibility. The portraits never seemed to care if the students were out of bed, and the grounds were too large for the small number of prefects to monitor perfectly. In fact, Umbridge's office had been so painfully simple to break into Link doubted there was much to worry over, there. Even the theft of floo powder, whatever that was, was not much concern. If need be Link would explain the nature of the emergency to McGonagall, who would, though undoubtedly be displeased, at least understand.

More concerning was whether Link should be present for the meeting or not. He would never say it in front of the boys, but he actually agreed with Mrs. Weasley. Sirius was not the best role model. More worryingly, he also held enough sway to incite Ron and Harry into recklessness.

The hylian had another job to do though, so he'd have to leave it to Hermione to pull the boys through. Hopefully her presence would be enough to curtail any more bad ideas before they took root.

It was with that reluctant thought that Link changed into his Sheikah armor and departed Gryffindor Tower.

Sneaking through the castle was exactly as Link thought; simple. It was not difficult, especially not in comparison to making his way through the heavily guarded Yiga Clan hideout or, goddess-forbid, around the damn lynel at Shatterback Point. It was almost too easy to make his way to Umbridge's repaired office on the third floor; no more difficult than the last time.

It was this ease that made Link perhaps too careless.

The moment he touched the doorknob a terrible shock ran up his arm and he cursed. Link couldn't let go of the knob, and every second felt further and further drained, as though it were draining him of all his energy. Too much longer and he'd be left unconscious or worse, and Umbridge would most certainly see who had attempted to break into her office in the morning.

Magical security, he thought dimly, did not necessarily leave visible traces. He should have expected Umbridge to have a counter-measure in place after the damage he'd done last time. To not even consider it had been a horrible oversight.

Link had vitality in spades. His long, arduous hours of training in childhood and then re-training in the shrines ensured that, but even he wouldn't last forever. _"Finite Incantatum,_ " he choked out hastily, gripping his blackthorn wand in his left hand. Nothing happened. Was it because it wasn't his dominant hand? He could use both easily enough... but no, these thoughts weren't helping. Darkness started creeping along the edges of his sight.

 _'Daruk!'_ he howled internally. Firming his stance, Link focused on the place in his soul where Daruk's spirit had once met his own. The goron's magic sprang to life, a vibrant red sphere snapping into place and, as Link had hoped, brutally shoving everything else away, including the malevolent magic lingering on the door.

His hand wrenched free of the knob, malignant burns crawling up the palm and encircling his wrist.

Link gasped harshly, panting for breath. His hand throbbed, and the effort it took to straighten was alarming. He thought briefly of backing out, of returning when he had recovered, but what if Umbridge knew somehow that her hex had been activated? He at least knew what to expect this time. Next time he might not get away.

That thought in mind, Link mentally ran through his options. He couldn't activate Daruk's Protection again; he hadn't the energy to spare. He didn't have enough magical know-how to deactivate or subvert whatever hex the ministry toad had used either.

But he did have something in his pack that might work.

With a silent apology to Harry, Link drew the penknife Sirius had given the younger wizard last year. It slid easily through the lock, the door springing open untouched. Warily, Link sidled into the room, dropping the letter on Umbridge's desk, making sure to touch nothing. He slipped back out just as fast and, with a newfound appreciation for charms, cast a quick " _accio_ " on the door to pull it shut.

Link was barely standing by the time he made it back to the dorms. He vaguely thought he heard his friends' voices as he passed the common room. If they were there, their own mission must have been successful. Link didn't have the energy to spare it much thought however. He collapsed into bed fully clothed, dropping into slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Link passed the entirety of the next day groggy and ill-tempered. It was fortunate he didn't have Defense that day, it being Tuesday, otherwise Umbridge would have certainly known something was up. His three younger friends had naturally been concerned, particularly when they saw the damage to his hand, so Link was forced to explain the events of the night prior. Hermione had grimaced and told him he was lucky to have made it out as well as he had, trailing off in a mutter about familiar spells and research. Link had groggily asked her to pass along any new counter-spells she found, nearly face-planting into his lunch.

He was certainly too tired to care overmuch about the reformation of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron and Harry had been ecstatic though, and even Hermione had been pleased, albeit for different reasons.

"It means it's working," she'd said smugly. "I've spoken to a lot of people today, and not a single club, team, or group of any kind has been refused. I still wouldn't risk _our_ group becoming public knowledge, but I doubt she'll be able to hold expulsion over our heads anymore."

That was something, at least. Things were starting to look up. Especially when, as they discovered the next afternoon, Harry had found the location for their Defense meetings.

And that was how Link found himself watching his younger friends pace back-and-forth in front of a blank stretch of wall at seven o'clock that evening, wondering again at how bizarre the magic these wizards practiced was.

A door rippled into existence, drawing the attention of the four, and when they pushed it open the room inside was perfect. Hermione bee-lined for the large bookshelves filled with countless tomes about magical defense, while Ron toed a stack of plush cushions on the floor. Harry took it upon himself to greet the students trickling through the door, while Link tested his footing on the mats covering the length of the floor.

It didn't take long for all the students to arrive, and after that they swiftly dubbed themselves "Dumbledore's Army," in honor of the ministry's ludicrous fear. At a quarter past seven, the meeting had finally begun.

Link found himself surprised at how effective a teacher Harry was. He managed to impart the importance of the spell they would be practicing, got every single student involved, and ensured they all accomplished casting the spell successfully at least once. The fact that they wanted to be there helped, for sure, but almost without exception they'd all had fun and _learned_. Link was impressed.

At nearly half past eight Harry called time. It was a little later than they'd agreed, which meant Link wouldn't have as much time for his own lesson, but that was alright. He wasn't expecting any of them to master anything by the end of the hour, and wouldn't have even if they'd had more time.

"I noticed we've had quite a few falls today, practicing disarming," Link began. A few of the students smirked, ribbing each other playfully. More than one overpowered spell had knocked a friend to the ground. "So that's what we're going to start with today. How to fall."

The general playfulness of the atmosphere fell. "How is that helpful?" Zacharias asked moodily. These kids weren't anywhere near as excited when they weren't practicing magic.

Link smiled blandly. "Because the most damage you are likely to receive in a fight, unless you're actually hit by a spell, is from a fall. The fastest way you can be cornered is if you fall. The best way to mitigate both of those things is to learn to fall properly."

He called for a volunteer. Naturally, no one was particularly eager to step forward. Link waited patiently, long enough for the students to start shifting uncomfortably. Eventually Harry mustered his courage and stepped into the space cleared by Link.

The hylian cast a swift trip-jinx before Harry could properly react and held back a grimace as his wand hand itched from still-healing burns. Mipha's Grace hadn't been able to cure them entirely, and Link wondered if it was more dark magic on Umbridge's part. Harry fell face-first into the mats, to a small smattering of giggles.

"There are three things that Harry just did wrong. Can anyone name them?" he asked, shifting focus back to the lesson. Harry, who was just sitting up, seemed as startled as anyone by the number. Even Hermione looked unsure.

"He didn't have Constant Vigilance!" Fred joked, to whoops from his audience. They all remembered Mad-Eye (or his doppelganger); even Link, who'd only worked with him briefly that summer, was well-familiar with the phrase.

Link smiled and acknowledged the point. "Well, yes. But more specifically, when he fell."

He waited another moment for answers that didn't come. "Harry, was there anything that felt wrong when you landed?" the hylian prompted.

Harry blinked, hesitant. "Well, my wrist hurt a bit?" he shrugged.

"Yes, because you threw your hands in front of you." Link turned to face the rest of the room. "Those are the first two things that went wrong. Harry tensed and tried to catch himself."

"Okay, but why's that wrong?" Ron asked loudly.

"Because if Harry hadn't fallen on these mats, he'd have broken his wrist," Link said sharply. More than one DA member startled at his tone. "Imagine how hard it would be to fight if your wand arm were broken."

 _Finally_ , that got their full attention, so Link continued. "When you tense up you're more likely to injure yourself."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, causing more than one student to turn towards her. She shrank a bit. "Sorry."

"No, continue."

The bushy-haired witch straightened uncertainly. "It's a bit like branches. The more flexible the wood, the harder it is to break. The more brittle, the easier it snaps. In this case tensing does the same thing; your body becomes more rigid, which is like making it more brittle."

Link nodded. "An apt analogy. And the fact that Harry caught himself?"

"All of the energy from his momentum and weight went straight to his wrists instead of dispersing."

"Exactly," Link said, mostly sure they were still talking about the same thing. "If you must catch yourself, never do so with just your hands. Your entire forearm, from palm to elbow, works much better if you can manage it. Better still is not to do so at all. The smaller the point of impact, the more likely you will break something. And the third thing?"

To everyone's surprise, it was Neville who answered. "He landed on his front?"

Link grinned. "Yes! When you land on your front you can't see what's happening around you; your head and neck simply don't have the range of motion necessary from that angle. It's far better to land on your back whenever possible, or at least get there quickly. Now I understand it's impossible to control all of these things all of the time. It's especially difficult to learn to loosen up when falling, especially in combat, so I've got a few other tricks to teach you. We're going start by practicing rolling with the momentum of your fall, and _yes_ , that means you'll be getting knocked over; there's no substitute for real practice, that's why we're _here_..."

The students listened attentively, if not as excitedly as they had to Harry. There were a few grumbles as the students lined up to get thrown - mostly by Link, for safety's sake - but no one refused. All in all, it was a satisfying evening.

* * *

By the time November arrived Link dearly wished he could wear his plush rito armor, stuffed with insulating down to keep out the biting winds. The weather wasn't as bad as Hebra's, _nowhere_ was as cold as Hebra, Link was sure, but the snow and the ice and the _goddess-cursed_ wind were freezing all the same.

Link took to donning the rito headdress every morning in pure defiance of the cold, the enchanted rubies dangling from his hair doing more to combat the chill than thick robes ever could. He was sure Umbridge or Snape at least would take issue with it, but strangely they said nothing. Perhaps it wasn't close enough to a hat to be against the school's uniform policy. Who knew?

Outside the weather, things had been going well. Every DA member had thus far returned to the Room of Requirement for more lessons despite the ever-changing schedule (in no small part thanks to Hermione, whose enchanted coins were ingenious), and were advancing nicely. Harry had stuck so far to reviewing topics they had covered in previous years, but sorely needed some practice in, while Link had progressed from falls to footwork and balance and, after a lot of pressure from their shared students, to properly throwing punches. Thankfully the Room had summoned large bags of sand for them to hit while the hylian critiqued, otherwise he was sure one of the Weasleys would have hit Zacharias under some lame pretense by now.

Hopefully their interest in hitting each other would die quickly. The odds of a bunch of untrained teens getting within striking distance in a wizard's battle were low enough to be negligible, so Link would much prefer to work on their dodging and situational awareness. Such skills would be far more valuable in the long run, and Link would drill them in it for as long as he could get away with. He just needed a good way to simulate live combat without a bunch of kids hexing each other first. Worst case scenario he supposed he could limit which spells they cast...

Link shook his head and focused back on the game, not entirely sure what the point of it was. Flying looked nice, and from experience Link knew those brooms were far faster than his paraglider, but Quidditch itself seemed wasteful. The hylian could think of a thousand things he'd rather be doing than searching for a ball a hundred feet in the air. He'd had enough of that hunting koroks.

Regardless, he'd agreed to come and support Ron and Harry's first game of the season. Harry was circling the pitch trying to find the little winged ball, which honestly was not very interesting to watch. Ron... was not doing well. His nerves had gotten the better of him, it seemed, and it was making him too indecisive and unsure to properly guard the hoops. The Slytherin team had taken full advantage, and before even a quarter-hour had passed, everyone in the stands knew victory or loss would be down to the speed of Gryffindor's seeker.

And then the Slytherins across the pitch, nestled safely from the red-clad Gryffindors in their distant stands, began to chant. Link's heart sank at the nasty words undoubtedly invented by that childish little brat, Draco Malfoy, who seemed to find validation only in cruelty. The Slytherin team was already winning; what purpose did this serve? How was it that boy could incite his entire house into such petty mind games?

In the end, Gryffindor managed to pull a win, but only because Harry was swift enough to snatch the golden snitch out of the air before the green-clad flyers. It had to be frustrating for the Slytherins, who had worked hard to rack up their points, only to have victory stolen away by a single player gaining enough points as to be considered unfair in a single instant. Link might have been sympathetic if the entirety of their house hadn't devoted the game to making one of his friends miserable.

"Malfoy is horrible," Hermione bit out, frustrated. Even though the Gryffindor team had won, none of them seemed especially happy, least of all Ron. Then the pale blond Link had managed to avoid only through repeated, heavy use of the library swaggered toward Harry and Link felt his mood sink further.

This could not possibly end well.

Hermione traded him a brief, fearful glance before booking it from the stands. Link didn't bother forcing his way through the students. He leapt over their heads, clearing the stands entirely, and whipped his paraglider out of his enchanted pack. A few startled screams followed him down, but Link merely stowed his glider away again and ran.

Link's sharp ears caught the foul words spilling from the blond Slytherin's mouth and winced. A century ago, if such insults had been leveled at his home and family, he would have been well within his rights to punish the offending party and no one would have so much as blinked. This world's rules were a little different though, and retaliation would mean nothing good for any of them.

To his credit, Harry tried to reign in his temper. Link could see even from across the pitch that he was breathing deliberately slowly in the three-count Link had taught him that night after Fred and George's prank. It just wasn't enough.

Angelina managed to pin Fred before he could launch himself at the bully, but George slipped from her grasp and executed a perfectly formed punch straight at the boy's nose. A sickening crunch resounded across the pitch, a violent noise that gave even Harry pause. It gave him just enough time for Link to use Harry's momentum against him, throwing the wizard to the ground, knee planted in the small of his back. He had the green-eyed wizard's arm in tight grip, pushed painfully behind his back. Link didn't use holds very often; his slender build and slight weight made it nearly impossible to keep from being thrown off. While he could do some damage in the process, it usually just wasn't worth it. Fortunately Harry, in his rage, was too distracted to squirm away.

"Breathe," Link commanded. "One... two... three..."

"I. Don't. Want. To. Calm. Down," Harry snarled. "That little ferret-"

"I don't care," Link interrupted flatly. "I'm not letting you up until you do. Now, _one_ ," he counted sharply, "Two. Three." Impa had done this for him once, Link recalled, when he was thirteen and new to his destiny, after a nobleman had spat in his face, calling him nothing but a brat who would cause them all to fall to Calamity. Link had burned with such fury and insecurity that, like the child he'd been, he had dissolved into inconsolable tears. Impa had forced him to breathe with her, and that day he'd gained a friend and teacher. He hoped she was doing well, back in Kakariko.

Harry's breathing slowed out of pure reflex, weeks of meditation serving him well. His struggles ceased, and Link warily climbed off his back.

By that time Madam Hooch had frozen George in his tracks with a swiftly snapped spell. Her amber eyes flashed in outrage as she took in Malfoy, clutching his bleeding nose, wand lying forgotten in the cropped grass. She could barely force the words to send George to castle out through the strength of her anger, and rounded immediately on Fred and Harry once he'd gone.

"You two," she snapped, "back to your dorms at once." Hooch didn't seem to know what to do with Link's presence, so she ignored him entirely. She flicked her wand, levitated Malfoy gently from the ground, and stalked toward the hospital wing.

Link followed after Harry in tense silence, joined by Hermione, who'd finally struggled her way past the crowds. Ron had thoughtfully collected his brothers' and Harry's brooms, and so didn't catch up until they were safely within Gryffindor tower. He looked miserable, and not entirely on his friend and family's behalf.

To their surprise George did not take long to return, and gave a stiff report of a week's detention, to be served with their Head of House. "And McGonagall would like a word with the two of you," he added to Fred and Harry.

Hermione sighed in relief. "I thought for sure Umbridge would intervene somehow."

"Oh she tried," George informed her darkly. "Tried to punish Fred and Harry, too, but McGonagall wouldn't have any of it. You can bet we'll be seeing some awful new "Educational Decree" soon enough, though. The old toad was practically hopping by the time I left."

"Think we should do something?" Harry asked. His anger had finally drained away and he was left sitting before the fireplace, exhausted.

Fred and George traded a glance, leaning in to listen curiously.

"We should see what she does, first," Hermione said practically. "If there's a viable work around we don't want to do anything. The more we push, the more likely it is she retaliates in a way we don't expect."

"What's this all about, then?" Fred asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Never you mind."

"More importantly," Link interrupted, "what were you three thinking?"

The twins turned to him, startled. Harry, blinking, followed suit.

"I'm not teaching you to attack your fellow students. No matter how obnoxious," Link added at their frowns.

"He bloody well deserved it, the rat," George hissed.

"It doesn't matter," Link growled. "This could have easily ended in disaster. It still might. From what I've heard, Malfoy comes from a powerful family. What happens when he retaliates? Does his father not have the ear of your minister?"

Fred and George went a little pale, and Harry's mouth snapped shut. He might have been safe from the Malfoys, but the Weasleys were not. Dumbledore could only do so much.

"If this is how you're going to use what I teach you, then I won't have you in my lessons," Link said seriously. "I can't stop you from committing reckless violence, but I won't encourage it either. _The next time you throw a punch at another student you will be facing me_."

Link had taken down two dementors with a sword while half dead from exhaustion. They wouldn't stand a chance and they knew it. "You got it, boss," Fred said moodily. George nodded.

Link pinned Harry with a lupine glare. "Fine," he said grudgingly. The hylian waited him out until he added churlishly, "Won't happen again."

"Good," Link nodded, not entirely satisfied. It would have to be enough.

* * *

Harry was stressed. The faint frown lines darkening his brow never really seemed to fade anymore, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were growing darker. Link supposed it was natural that they boy would have nightmares; from what he'd heard, the end of his last school year had been particularly traumatic.

But there was also the return of their delightful friend and teacher, Hagrid. The hylian was beginning to wonder if there was some correlation between size and friendliness. The man was as big as Sidon, and just as impressively warm and generous. And though it was clear he was a bit unrefined as a teacher, he had a passion and depth of knowledge about magical creatures that really shone in his work.

Link had enjoyed meeting the thestrals. Many of the others had been a little spooked, which the hylian supposed was understandable, but Link deeply regretted being unable ride one of the beasts. A day trip through the Forbidden Forest would have been amazing. He'd been cooped up in the castle for far too long.

Unfortunately, Umbridge had not only been present, but she'd clearly had some sort of vendetta against the giant (Half-giant? What were giants? Except, well, large.) from the outset. His first day back and he was already under fire, the threat of termination from his post at Hogwarts horrifyingly likely.

They put a great deal of thought into applying more pressure on the toad-woman. Unfortunately, she'd already been acting as judge over the teachers for well over a month in collaboration with the minister. Her position there was well established, as unfortunate as it was. They also had no way of knowing whether or not she was sole arbiter or sharing her evaluations with the ministry; if she had been, anything they did would ultimately be useless.

Even if she hadn't, if they tried to force her hand at this juncture, not only would it obviously be about Hagrid, it would also point straight to the trio as his friends. They would be jeopardizing the delicate hold they had over her actions, and open themselves up for retaliation. The only way they could do anything would be to actually carry out their implied threat from her last "Educational Decree" and get her arrested.

Harry had been furious at this realization, and then at Link and Hermione both when they agreed that they couldn't risk it. Ron had sided with Harry. The four had very nearly dissolved into an explosive argument in the middle of the common room over the issue, before common sense had kicked in and they'd removed themselves to the Room of Requirement.

 _Then_ they'd had their argument. The Room of Requirement was a magnificent place indeed, and Harry had settled the issue by fire-calling Sirius where, to everyone's surprise, he and Lupin had weighed in favor of Link and Hermione's caution. Better an obvious bigot the students near-unanimously hated then someone new that could get them thinking like the ministry. Or, goddess-forbid, a plant from Voldemort.

Harry had spent the next half-hour systematically taking his temper out on vases summoned by the Room.

It was this in combination with homework, Quidditch practice, and the DA that made for a particularly stressed wizard. So much so that when Harry burst out of bed in the middle of the night three weeks later Link merely thought he'd had a stress-induced nightmare. Link had attempted the obvious solution of guiding Harry through more breathing exercises, into proper meditation preferably, but the younger wizard had been too panicked to listen, shouting madly about snakes and Arthur Weasley. In the end Neville had gotten McGonagall, and they'd both gone, taking Ron with them.

They hadn't come back. By the time morning arrived, Fred, George, and Ginny had gone as well.

Link was left feeling surprisingly listless without his usual company around, too worried to focus well on his research, which had hit a wall some time ago regardless. Hermione had joined him in his fretting after he'd explained what he knew, and they'd sat in silence, flipping through their selected books without internalizing a word.

Or so he thought.

"Oh, Link, look at this," Hermione said, all but shoving a book in his hands. "I thought you might find it interesting."

She'd placed a book about myths in his hands, opened to a story about a realm with no day or night. Honestly, had she been reading over his shoulder? He hadn't realized his book selections had been so obvious to her...

Wait. Link stared at the text incredulously. The realm of no day or night. That sounded awfully familiar, and Link thought back to the ceremony a century ago, where Zelda had used the phrase "steeped in the glowing embers of twilight." Some of their oldest legends spoke of a hero that had traveled through a world of twilight and rescued its princess.

Link closed his eyes. Twin faces flashed through his mind, pale blue skin with fiery hair and eyes, one childlike and impish, the other serene and regal. _'Midna?'_ he thought, vague impressions of fire and laughter and heartbreak settling firm in his chest. Something deep within him howled, all triumph and mourning and primal ferocity.

The fleeting memory of another lifetime, sleeping within his soul.

There was something else though, something important. He thought vaguely of spirits and... a curse? A flash of gold and a stalfo, perhaps, crossed his mind with a rhythmic clinking of chain and a... a cat? That was talking? It said something about Link no longer being dumb. That last seemed really important somehow, though the hylian was at a loss as to why.

Link's eyes opened and he turned them on the girl sitting across from him. "Thanks, Hermione," he said with more solemnity than he intended. The witch blinked at his seriousness, watching curiously out of the corner of her eye even as she turned to her homework.

The hylian settled in to read, skimming first for pertinent phrases, a trick Hermione had taught him earlier that year, when she realized he wasn't a particularly fast reader.

 _'...A tale from my mother's mother, from her mother and more, stretching long into antiquity, tells of the existence of world of neither day nor night, a land ever caught between the two... Its inhabitants named themselves thus; Twili, children of this land of eternal Twilight...descendants of a tribe from the realm of Light...but not all of their children survived intact, becoming instead shades that could do naught but consume the light of others, the Light which makes us who we are... The shades slipped into our world, and wrought such fierce destruction that only the most powerful wizards survived their purge... Once the danger had passed, the gateway which connects our world to theirs was then buried, and all texts pertaining to it burned...'_

Link nearly stopped breathing, gaze hungrily devouring the pages within the text. Shades that consumed what made people who they were. Could the story be referring to dementors? If so, that was the second time a book had mentioned them in relation to gateways and other worlds, and what he'd thought mere coincidence was looking distinctly less so. And the Twilight Realm, for there was no other place it could be, was _real_ , was bordered to Hyrule from its seat in the world of Light.

Link did not recall much from his previous lives, but the connection between Hyrule and Twilight had been destroyed, hadn't it? Perhaps not entirely. Maybe there was a lingering opening still, enough for those creatures - the shades, _dementors_ \- to fall through. Enough for _Link_ to fall through. The goddesses were indeed watching out for him still, for his vague recollections to be enough to give him such insight.

The Hylian forcibly calmed himself. All this was mere conjecture. He had no proof, had no way to find the gate, should it still exist. Nothing but a newfound conviction rooted firmly in his mind.

He pulled out his Slate, tapping swiftly at the screen, committing every word of his thoughts to the journal stored within with a fevered intensity he could tell startled Hermione. He skimmed through his prior notations, what few there were, and linked the brief notes from the night of the sorting and the story about gateways to his newest additions. When that was finished, he started from the beginning of the section, carefully reading every word of the myth within the precious tome.

Link felt more hopeful than he had in months, certain that this was the key. He would find this gateway, would pass through Twilight and into Light. There were no other options.

The little girl. His Zelda. She would not grow up fatherless, her mother a widow.

"I had no idea this was so important to you," Hermione began carefully, some time later.

Link nodded absently, flipping to the sources listed in the back of the book. His heart sank a bit when he looked through the lists of names and books, all dated decades ago. The people weren't likely to be alive then, even if he could track them down, a feat he rather doubted. The books might be in Hogwarts' library though, but that would have to wait until morning. Actually, they'd be off to Grimmauld for the wizards' holiday tomorrow, wouldn't they? Link wondered if it were too late to change his mind and stay at the school. Or maybe the Black family library would have more...

"Link, is there... is there some way I can help you?"

The hylian paused his perusal, blinking up at the girl.

"It's only, well, you've done so much for us already and you're clearly trying very hard to look for something," she rambled. "But I don't know what," she added, a hint of frustration leaking into her voice. "You never talk about yourself! And this is obviously very important to you... I'm very good at research, you know..." she trailed off. Which was very true; Hermione only had the vaguest idea of what he was looking for and already she'd found as much, if not more, then he had in the entirety of his time at the school.

Link hesitated, realizing that for all he knew of his friends, he'd not once told them why he was at Hogwarts. They had enough of their own troubles to contend with. They didn't need his on top of it all.

Hermione took in his hesitation and bit her lip. "Please?"

His resolve crumbled. It was that same look Zelda gave him whenever she wanted something he didn't want to give, and he had not the will to outright deny her.

"I think you might have already realized my circumstances are unusual," he began dryly. Hermione's lips twitched in good humor. "I don't know how I got here, to your world, though I have my suspicions."

"To our world? The wizarding world?"

Link shook his head, hesitated once more, then handed Hermione the Sheikah Slate. She frowned down at it. The text was all in Hylian. "No, I mean your world, as in Earth. My home, Hyrule, is linked to various realms: Twilight, Termina. It has at least a peripheral connection to this realm. Unfortunately, the direct pathways were lost or closed centuries ago, in some cases millennia. I need to find them again to get home."

Hermione's eyes were very wide, but she didn't look disbelieving. Whatever information she'd managed to gather prior to this discussion was visibly clicking into place. She clutched the Slate with white-knuckled hands.

Link drew his blackthorn wand, warmth tingling at his fingertips. Hermione nodded at his questioning glance. _"Eadem Linguae,"_ he cast, the magic settling over the witch like a cloak. She looked down at the Slate in awe as the Hylian rearranged itself into words she could understand. "Those are all my research notes," he informed her quietly. He licked his lips. "Perhaps you can make better use of them than I."

She read through them slowly, scribbling down questions and notes on a blank parchment before returning the Slate with trembling hands. "I - I have so many questions," she squeaked, lips quivering from the effort to not spill all of them out at once. "Tell me _everything_ ," she demanded finally, breathlessly.

And so Link did, starting from the dementors invading Gerudo Desert, all the way to his discussion with Dumbledore. Hermione stopped him periodically with questions that Link answered to the best of his ability. Why was Link the only one to fall through? How had he fought the dementors, and why was he the only one capable? What was the significance of the Arbiter's Grounds? One after the other until hours had passed, parchments filling with Hermione's neat, cramped writing, and Hylian script eating up the Slate's screen.

By the time morning light filtered into the common room, neither had gotten any sleep, but Link hadn't felt so productive in ages.

Why hadn't he told Hermione sooner? She was brilliant, truly, and deserved every ounce of appreciation he could give her and more.

"Mr. Hyrule, Ms. Granger. The Headmaster would like to speak with you."

Both of them startled at the sound of McGonagall's voice and Link hastily tucked away the Slate. Hermione stuffed her notes in her bag.

"Is this about what happened yesterday?" Hermione questioned.

The professor's brows rose. "You mean the day before, Ms. Granger?" she asked dryly.

Hermione nodded sheepishly. McGonagall merely shook her head in exasperation. "It is," she replied simply, and the three swept out of the tower.

Despite the tired bruises lining both their eyes and the grave news that was sure to come, Link was left feeling warm with satisfaction and a lingering light of hope welling in his heart.

Everything would turn out alright, he couldn't help but think. He was going to make it home.


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas passed swiftly and merrily, the good mood only brightened by Mr. Weasley's eventual recovery, though the elder redhead hadn't made it back for the holiday itself. Link had mixed feelings about the holiday, primarily because he hadn't even known to gather gifts for his friends. He'd woken to a modest pile of sweets and books from the trio and their families at the foot of his bed with nothing to give in return.

He'd covered his embarrassment by marching downstairs and putting the supplies in his pack to good use, pulling out meats and vegetables and spices that were as fresh as they day he'd stored them, and cooking up a veritable feast for everyone in residence that day. It was an effort much appreciated, as the kitchen was normally Mrs. Weasley's fiercely guarded domain, but she had been understandably distraught by her son Percy's behavior.

Afterwards, Link had opted out of visiting Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's, preferring a less intrusive trip to the Black's library. He'd not ended up finding anything of use to his search for home, but some of the spellcraft was more than a little interesting. The hylian had ended up picking a thick tome about animagi from the shelves and read through several chapters in both fascinated enjoyment and an unsettling, inexplicable urgency. Sirius had offered to let him keep it, quietly admitting he hoped seeing the book with Link would encourage Harry to read it someday and follow in the Marauder's footsteps. Link thought this highly unlikely, given the younger wizard's lack of interest in transfiguration. Who knew, though? Link was only intermittently enthusiastic about the subject himself.

The only blemish in their otherwise peaceful holiday was Snape's meeting with Harry. The green-eyed wizard was absolutely infuriated at the thought of more lessons with his least-favorite professor (only such because Umbridge didn't qualify as a teacher in his book), and despite Hermione's reasoning, Harry didn't seem sure he wanted his dreams to stop. Not when they'd saved Mr. Weasley's life.

Link wasn't sure how he felt about the lessons either. Snape was dark and broody and so obviously unsuited for extensive work with or around children it was a wonder he was a teacher at all. If he taught occlumency as he did potions, Harry wasn't going to learn a thing.

Predictably, his first occlumency lesson did indeed go poorly.

"Apparently Dumbledore thinks I've got this connection to Voldemort that gets more intense when I'm relaxed," Harry had griped afterward. "They think he's become aware of it now and I need to make it stop. But Snape just kept shouting at me to 'clear my mind' and 'empty myself of emotions.' How exactly is that supposed to help? And even if I weren't feeling anything, wouldn't that mean I'm more relaxed?"

Link shook his head, wheat-colored locks brushing his eyes. He hadn't realized his hair had grown so long; he'd need to get it cut, soon. "No. It means you're more focused. Emotions are distracting during conflict, Harry. If you're clear-headed, you're more aware of what's happening around you and what you can do to influence it." He frowned, tilting his head in thought. "I agree that shouting at you doesn't help though. That sort of calm, especially when undergoing stress, takes a great deal of practice to summon, let alone instantly. That's why I taught you the three-count to help you focus. It's _difficult_."

Harry paused at that. "It is sort of the same thing, isn't it?" he asked slowly.

Occlumency _did_ sound a great deal like meditation. "I guess," he said, not willing to commit to that idea when he knew so little about the magic involved.

"You don't suppose I could just practice with you then?" the younger wizard sounded so hopeful.

"I don't know ligilimency," Link returned regretfully. Though it did sound immensely useful. And intrusive. Was that what Dumbledore had used during their initial meeting? "I can still help you with your meditation though."

Harry only sighed moodily. "Yeah. Thanks."

The very next day they were assaulted by more bad news. Umbridge had finally posted a new Educational Decree, likely in retaliation to Harry's early disappearance from Hogwarts for the holidays. It gave her the power to review all students' extracurricular activities, which gave her an incredible amount of leeway in what she chose to look at and ban. Fortunately, it was so broad in scope there was no feasible way for Umbridge to do much inconveniencing, as she already had her hands full "teaching" and "reviewing" the professors.

 _Un_ fortunately, this meant Link had to be extra careful slipping in and out of the restricted section of the library. Though he had permission to be there, no doubt Umbridge would find some way to ban him from going if she knew about it. Worryingly, she might already, as he hadn't exactly made those trips a secret. Most of the students wouldn't have bothered to inform her, but this might push Malfoy to, the little wart.

Even worse was the news of nearly a dozen of Voldemort's followers escaping the wizarding prison, Azkaban, and the death of Broderick Bode, whom the trio had apparently seen during their visit to St. Mungo's. The man worked at the ministry, Ron had informed them with in startled remembrance, as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione grimly suspected that was where Sturgis Podmore had attempted to break in earlier that year, and Mr. Weasley had been found bitten. Voldemort's likely murder of Bode made it all too apparent his interest in the place.

Ron had finally confirmed this, saying he recognized Harry's description of the corridor from a trip he'd made to the Ministry with his dad once.

They'd all stared at the two articles for a long moment after, the sneering, mad pictures of Azkaban's worst inmates lingering in their minds. Harry loudly wondered how anyone _couldn't_ believe Voldemort was back given the rotten news that morning, and it was lucky the rest of the students were just as noisy; Umbridge was at the high table for once, and would have used any excuse to punish Harry again. Link could only hope she hadn't been stupid enough to make more of her blood-letting quills.

Hermione had then proceeded to look very shifty and run off to write a letter.

To add insult to injury, Hagrid informed them he was on probation right after breakfast, and that Umbridge would be monitoring all of his lessons. How she expected to do that, teach her own classes, _and_ monitor extracurricular activities was anyone's guess, but hopefully it had her too distracted to pay much attention to what the four of them were up to, or the DA.

A much needed break from all the stress came in the form of their next Hogsmeade weekend. For Link, anyway. Ron was trapped in a day-long Quidditch practice that Hermione had sternly forbade Angelina from forcing on Harry, for reasons that were incredibly important... just not important enough to stop Harry from taking one Cho Chang on a date? Hermione was busy preparing whatever it was she wanted Harry for, and the Boy-Who-Lived was nervously smartening himself up for Cho.

Link honestly hadn't even noticed anything going on between the two other than the occasional blushing glance. When he informed Hermione of this, she'd simply stared at him, rolled her eyes, and muttered " _boys_ " in a disgusted fashion before swanning right off.

The hylian ended up venturing to all the little shops he'd missed due to the formation of the DA at their last Hogsmeade weekend, munching on a variety of unusual sweets from Honeyduke's, some of which he stowed away for Zelda. He picked up a few new books from the local store, replaced his increasingly worn quill with a sleek new eagle-feather, and was just considering whiling away the rest of the time finishing up the book Sirius had given him when he passed by Fred, George, and their friend Lee in Zonko's Joke Shop. The twins had apparently escaped Angelina early, which left her with what, half a team? Shrugging, the hylian wandered inside, half expecting to see Ron hiding amongst the shelves as well.

Link had up until this point thought wizarding pranks were primarily about spells you could cast or tampering with food, as the twins had done. Zonko's was full of anything and everything though, from dungbombs to animated spiders to cauldrons that vanished potions to quills that changed whatever you wrote to nasty insults.

It was a masterful display of wasted ingenuity, Link thought blandly just as Fred caught sight of him.

"Why if it isn't Mr. Link Hyrule," he said, a little too cheerfully. "Just the man we wanted to see!"

The hylian eyed the grinning twins warily. "Shouldn't you be at Quidditch practice?"

"Our dear captain is so focused on Ron I wouldn't be surprised if it were just the two of them by now," Fred said mournfully, likely over their chances of winning the Quidditch Cup this year. "She's working him to the ground, she is."

Link sighed. "So why did you want to see me?"

"Well," George started, "you, my friend, seem to know more about pissing off that old toad than just about anyone." He thought about this a moment before adding, "Save Harry, anyway."

"We mean Umbridge, of course," Fred pointed out unnecessarily. "We were thinking of implementing a teensy little prank, to lift up the old school's spirit, you know, and what better victim - I mean target - than such a _charming_ woman?"

"After all, she spends so much time trying to make all of us miserable, I don't see why we can't return the favor," George added baldly.

Link snorted, something wolfish and mischievous in him privately agreeing. "I'm not cross-dressing for it again," he said flatly. He didn't mind the clothes. In fact, if he were being honest, he would even say he liked the graceful designs women's clothing more often sported than men's. But he didn't like being made to feel foolish in them, which was what would happen if they yet again made a spectacle of him. Granted, one of those times had been his own fault, but still...

Fred and George pouted obscenely. "Do you really think so little of our creativity?" George asked, and turned to his brother. "I think I'm hurt."

"Well I can tell you she guards her office with some nasty hexes at night. I wouldn't bother hitting her there. It might actually be dangerous for you," Link offered, recalling his last foray into her domain with a grimace.

"Well, well, well, someone's been up to no good," Fred exclaimed, delighted.

The hylian smirked. "Of a sort."

"So you wouldn't be opposed to collaborating for a little well-deserved petty revenge?"

Link thought about it for a moment. There were so many things he should do instead, but it had not only been a stressful few weeks, Harry had been an absolute bear since he'd started occlumency lessons with Snape. He flexed his hand, which bore faint scars from Umbridge's door. Such pettiness was beneath him, but... a little creative outlet might be just the catharsis he needed.

"No, I don't think I'd be opposed at all."

"So what does our critic have in mind?" George drawled, eyes alight with glee.

The hylian pondered for a moment, thinking through all the various objects he'd collected throughout his travels, in particular a few rare fish he'd caught near Zora's domain during his and Zelda's first diplomatic visit, and an idea began to bloom. A few pieces would be difficult with his lack of magical expertise, but that's where Fred and George would come in.

Link grinned wolfishly. The twins traded a glance before smirking right back.

"I have just the thing."

* * *

Link and the twins spent the entirety of Sunday deep in planning. The redheads were surprisingly committed to their research when the goal was their own entertainment. Or perhaps not so surprising - the sheer quantity of joke sweets they'd produced and tested over the course of the last half year was astounding. Either way, they scoured books for spells they needed, spent hours practicing them, gathered their chosen materials, and enchanted each and every one of them.

And then they got to work.

The morning of the second day dawned with the three conspirators groggy but pleased, a mood that rapidly dissolved to anticipation. It was fortunate Link's first class was a free period, as no one would miss his presence, though he regretted the trio were stuck in History. They would have enjoyed this, he was sure.

Fred, George, and Link concealed themselves in a nook behind a suit of armor. Though cramped, a few quick disillusionment spells made them nearly impossible to see, while their own vantage point allowed them to peek at the entire corridor. Most importantly, they had clear line of sight to the Defense classroom.

Rather, where the classroom _used_ to be.

Link had to resort to his Sheikah training to force down the giggles that wanted to emerge when Umbridge walked briskly down the corridor, froze, looked either way as though she thought she'd gone too far, then _snarled_.

The classroom had been completely walled off. More than that, the wall and door both were entirely invisible, appearing just as the stone on either side.

Umbridge jabbed her stubby little wand at the space the door should have been, only to be knocked back by an explosive _BANG_ as a wall of stacked wood revealed itself, spitting a thick cloud of smoke that painted the witch a violent orange. Frantically waving her wand over herself did nothing to solve the color change, her neon skin clashing horribly with her pink cardigan.

Layer one. Oh, but the twins were brilliant. Hermione could disparage their grades all she wanted, but the redheaded menaces were far smarter than she gave them credit for. Link may have suggested blocking off the room, but the magical side effects were all them.

Umbridge eventually gave up on turning her skin its usual shade, though even if she had, she'd have been a blotchy red. She snapped out a spell that sent the wood tumbling aside, only to reveal... another wall of wood.

She glowered at it warily, circling around the barrier as though another angle might reveal some sort of trick. Eventually, patience giving out, she jabbed her wand it it again, the same motion that had cleared the other wall. Only, the wall didn't clear. It giggled.

By this time her first class of the day had started trickling into the hall, confused whispers and muffled laughter picking up as they caught sight of their least favorite teacher. Umbridge spared them an angry glance before jabbing her wand again. The wall sputtered out a round of high pitched laughter. Again, and the wall shrieked hysterically. It howled. It guffawed. All the while Umbridge was turning that horrible blotchy red under the bright orange layered over her skin, perfectly convinced it was mocking her.

It was.

Ten minutes after class should have started, Umbridge had accumulated quite the crowd. Other students had somehow caught on to what was happening and had outright skipped their first classes to watch the spectacle.

Finally, with an angry stab at the wall, the wood gave one last wheezing laugh, stuck out a massive tongue, blowing a raspberry that spattered the ministry witch with foul-smelling spittle and left ugly, painful boils dotting her face and arms, and fell to pieces. Actual pieces, that is, not more laughter.

Layer two. Link snapped a rapid series of pictures with his Slate, wishing wistfully that there was a way to record the whole event from start to finish.

Then the last wall revealed itself, and Umbridge let loose an angry shriek that had the twins discreetly high-fiving from their hiding spot behind the armor. Link snickered. The suit's faceplate clicked ominously and they shut up.

The final layer was not, like the first two, made of wood, but of leaves. Each leaf was roughly the size of a person, broad and flat and not native to anywhere on earth. Umbridge's wand sparked threateningly as she jabbed it again, and one of the leaves snapped forward, a gale-force wind throwing her ass over teakettle.

Korok leaves, Link mused, had so many uses.

Umbridge clambered heavily to her feet, rings scraping the stone floor as she pushed herself up. _"Finite Incantatum!"_ she roared, wand stabbing forward violently. The leaves laughed a korok's laugh and swept forward again, blowing accumulated dust, spittle, and splinters from the other walls straight at the witch. They then fell to the side, revealing the door to her classroom. The toad-woman stalked forward, suspicous at the ease of the final wall, but too angry to give it much thought. A leaf slapped her in one final parting shot as she stomped past. Umbridge snarled and ripped open the door.

Only to be hit by a veritable lake pouring from the classroom, drenching the toad-woman and flooding the corridor.

McGonagall and Flitwick had finally arrived, alerted by the commotion and strange lack of students in their morning class, just in time to see Umbridge emerge, bright orange, covered from head to toe in boils and debris, and now sopping wet.

And smelling something awful, for trailing after her, swimming in a thin sheathe of floating water, was Link's rare prize.

A Reekfish.

Its putrid stink was worse than any dungbomb, and it hovered directly over the ministry witch like her own personal raincloud, trailing a thick odor that seeped down with drips of water to permeate her hair and clothing. Umbridge just stood there, trembling with rage, looking the worst anyone had ever seen her, and sputtered with choked rage in front of her peers. Her wand sparked ineffectually at her side.

Link sank to the floor, sides heaving with suppressed laughter. As close as they were, he nearly took Fred and George with him. They merely followed after, cackling madly underneath powerful silencing charms they'd cast on each other the moment they realized how much noise they were about to make.

The aptly named Reekfish gurgled, a little bubble of air leaking from its gaping mouth with a muted pop. Link wasn't entirely sure why, but it was this last that nearly broke his silence. Fred and George leapt at him, slamming their hands over his mouth as he sputtered helplessly. He nearly dropped the Slate trying to shove it back in his pack and thought vaguely that McGonagall had glanced in their direction with a raised brow.

The fish gurgled again, dripping a new wave of stink right into Umbridge's eyes.

Oh he was going to remember this _forever_.

* * *

The following weekend passed with a tired Gryffindor Quidditch team and a sullen Ronald Weasley. Though they'd won their match, it was only by the thinnest of margins, and Ron had let slip so many goals it barely felt a victory at all. The wizard must truly have felt awful about it; he maintained a moody silence all throughout Sunday, and only finally opened up the following morning at breakfast.

"I dunno how you guys do it," he said miserably. "I see the crowd and I just freeze right up." Ron had been teetering on the edge of quitting since their first game against the Slytherins, and Angelina's tough-love practices didn't seem to be helping much. If anything, the redhead was playing even worse.

Harry shrugged. "I get so focused on the match I barely remember they're there half the time."

"Well that doesn't explain him," Ron pointed at Link. "He traipsed around half-naked in front of half the school. _Twice_."

"People are always going to think what they want, Ron. You need to be the one controlling your actions, not them," Link advised, echoing the advice he'd given Harry months ago.

The redhead stared at him in disbelief. "You make that sound so easy," he muttered, shoulders slumping.

Link said nothing. It had taken him _years_ before he'd started acting on his own instead of reacting to the thoughts and words of people that ultimately did not affect his duty. He still had trouble with it sometimes, which was usually when Zelda stepped in to remind him he was the peoples' diarch, not the other way around. (He would always return that _she_ was their _monarch_ , and they would argue the point just for fun.)

"You're not that bad," Harry tried, straight-faced, but Ron only sank further into his seat, stabbing half-heartedly at his eggs.

They were saved from further sports talk but a veritable tide of owls descending upon Harry. Link pulled back in surprise, nearly dropping his fork, but Hermione just beamed. Luna even joined them from the Ravenclaw table to congratulate Harry, serenely pulling letters from some of the owls fluttering about their heads. Fred, George, and Ron all joined in when they saw what was happening. The Boy-Who-Lived opened the sole package amongst the envelopes, withdrawing a flimsy book bearing his own picture on the front.

"Here," Hermione said, snatching it from the boy after he had a moment to flip through the pages. She handed it to Link. "This is a magazine," she added in low tones, correctly guessing that Hyrule had nothing of the sort. "A lot like a newspaper, but printed monthly and more specialized. I organized an interview for Harry last weekend."

He glanced through it, making a note to read Harry's interview more in-depth later that evening. Link only knew sparse details of what had occurred the last school year, so the article was sure to be enlightening. "And those letters...?"

"Those are from people who've read it."

Link frowned. "And they want to... send their support?" he asked. It was such a foreign concept that Link would admit to some confusion. It wasn't that Hyruleans were averse to sharing their thoughts, but by post...? Sending what amounted to frivolity was a waste of paper and rupees. Reading and writing were luxuries, and while the average Hyrulean household possessed a few books, not all were literate, and there were those that could read only what was necessary for day to day life. Zoras fared better with their longer lifespans, greater wealth, and higher focus on artistry, but even they treated such things as a valued privilege over... whatever this was. Link glanced at the letters the others were reading, some of which contained only a handful of words. What a waste.

"Their opinion, good or bad," Hermione corrected. "People just want to feel like they've been heard."

Harry at least seemed bolstered by the vast amount of support he was garnering from the article. There were naysayers, of course, but they were by far outnumbered by those that wrote because they believed in him.

Predictably, that was when Umbridge came along, trying very hard to look imposing and severe. Unfortunately for her, the fish still swimming obliviously about her head made such a feat impossible. Link smirked and visibly pinched his nose shut to ward of the smell of the Reekfish. Fred and George took it one step further, scrunching up their noses and waving wildly in front of their faces.

(Link caught her trying to remove the fish at least twice a day. He was going to have to rescue the poor thing soon, lest she actually figure out how to dispel its floating film of water. Until then, he could just bask in their well-planned revenge.)

Harry looked right into her eyes and told her about the article.

"Well then," Umbridge bristled, angry blotches coloring her face under the orange pigment that was only just starting to fade, "as a little reminder that lies are a terrible thing to tell, Mr. Potter, you shall be banned from further visits to Hogsmeade."

"He hasn't broken any rules," Link said flatly. It was the first time he had openly challenged her authority since the crossdressing incident, and Umbridge froze, turning threateningly slowly to face him. A fat drop of smelly water fell from the Reekfish to her childish bow. "There is nothing in Hogwarts' rules that forbids students from speaking to reporters, otherwise there are a significant number of students you'd have to punish for participating in articles written for the Daily Prophet," he pointed out, tone quietly reasonable.

"Mr. Potter is disrupting breakfast," Umbridge said primly. Link raised a brow and pointedly eyed the fish, which _still_ caused snickers from passers-by. The ministry witch very nearly went purple.

"He can hardly control when people send letters."

"Mr. Hyrule, it is not up to you to decide how your betters administer discipline," Umbridge said, sickly sweet. "Now if you don't wish to receive detention yourself I suggest you return to your breakfast."

"Is there a problem here, Dolores?" McGonagall asked evenly, staring down the shorter teacher. She had naturally honed in on the commotion

"Well-"

"We were just debating how many rules Harry broke to deserve a ban on his trips to Hogsmeade, Professor," Link replied.

"I have not seen any rules being broken," McGonagall said, brows disappearing under the brim of her hat. "And unfortunately, as Mr. Potter's head of house, _administering discipline_ , as you put it, falls to me. Mr. Potter, a word?"

Harry startled, a brief look of outrage flitting across his face. Nonetheless he followed the transfiguration professor as she swept out of the Great Hall. Umbridge's beady eyes narrowed as she stalked to the high table, temporarily defeated.

"He's actually going to get in trouble for this?!" Ron squawked, all Quidditch related mishaps forgotten in favor of righteous anger on behalf of his friend. Hermione was also frowning, and even Fred and George looked angry. Luna hummed as she freed more owls of their burdens.

Link drained his goblet of pumpkin juice with a satisfied sigh, idly wondering if he could recreate the recipe with fortified pumpkins. _'Sugar cane, or maybe courser bee honey to add sweetness. Pureed chickaloo nuts for a richer flavor. Apple juice to thin it down, and just a tiny pinch of goron spice.'_ A moment later a dozen or so rubies fell into Gryffindor's hourglass. Link smirked, scribbling down his hasty recipe to put into the Slate later. "I wouldn't worry about it."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: A little later than usual today. Ah, well. Enjoy! Oh! And thanks for all the lovely reviews! I seriously don't say that enough, but you guys are awesome!

* * *

Not one but two new Educational Decrees were posted within the next few days, just as Link was beginning to practice the actual spellwork involved in becoming an animagus. He had only recently finished Sirius' book, the odd urgency he'd felt lessened but still present after its completion. It was such a bizarre, out-of-place feeling that Link was certain it was the will of the Goddesses that he train in this type of magic. Complex though it might be, he was sure he could accomplish the transformation within a few weeks if he worked hard enough. It would mean sacrificing his work in other areas, but the low-key anxiety was so pervasive he was sure it would be worth it just to rid himself of the feeling.

His friends ambushed him in the Room of Requirement just as a short Latin phrase spilled from his lips, and Link was left covered in thick fur from wrist to elbow as Hermione shoved two notices under his nose. One forbid the presence of the Quibbler in Hogwarts' walls, while the other allowed Umbridge the authority to override other teachers' punishments with her own.

Ron poked at the pale gray fur as Hermione huffed, "We'll leave the one about the Quibbler alone, obviously."

"Obviously?" Harry looked her askance.

"Yes, obviously," Hermione smiled smugly. "There is no better way to have ensured everyone read it."

Link wasn't entirely sure he followed that line of logic, but accepted it as one of those strange quirks that came with such free trade of information. Like the need to write opinions that came with widespread literacy. Or maybe it was the same in Hyrule and he'd not noticed before. Link thought back, recalling vaguely when the King tried banning all talk of Zelda's magical birthright. Though she'd been barely twelve at the time, everyone had instantly wanted to know why they weren't to speak of it, which meant everyone whispered about it. In under a fortnight the whole of Castle Town had known that Zelda had been unable to access her sealing magic, and the King had lifted the ban out of sheer inability to enforce it.

Okay, so maybe he did follow.

"Think about how nasty she'll be if we let her take over 'administering discipline,'" Hermione continued, speaking the phrase Umbridge had first used with a lightly mocking air about her. "She's already really unfair. Anyone that's got parents working in the Ministry she turns a blind eye to."

Ron and Harry both straightened, eager smiles painted across their faces. "Does this mean-?"

"Oh yes," she nodded. "Though I don't think we'll need an actual note this time." Hermione paused, then frowned. "Link, have you noticed you've got a tail?"

A mirror helpfully appeared right behind the hylian. All three boys looked toward the base of his spine, where a fluffy tail was indeed wagging happily. Ron snorted.

Hmm. That could be a problem.

They made plans to leave a solitary black quill on Umbridge's desk, enchanted to look like her blood-letting ones in appearance only, with a copy of the second notice. Though Link was unhappy about it, they'd also voted he stay in the Room until he sort out his extra appendage as, now they'd noticed it, the tail was extremely distracting. While the hylian was certain he could get in and out of Umbridge's office despite it, Hermione was particularly insistent he not take the risk. "Besides, Merlin forbid you shed in there," she sniffed, only partially in humor. "That fur can be traced back to you."

Link felt he ought to be offended. The beast he half was snarled unkindly, and the hylian felt the tail still.

Hermione armed herself with a plethora of disenchantments, counter-jinxes, and identifying spells while Harry slipped Sirius' penknife into his pocket. Ron opened the Marauder's Map and ducked under the Cloak when the green-eyed wizard lifted it for him, and the folds of it draped back down, leaving toes visible but nothing else.

"It's a bit cramped in here," Ron said, voice floating disconcertingly from empty air. The Map rustled faintly as the three perused it.

"Well she's not in her office. Let's get going," Harry's voice came next.

"Don't worry, Link," Hermione offered kindly, "we'll be careful."

Link waved them off with a soft growl of distaste at his own inaction and had to pull himself further from the door to stop from following along, some lupine instinct urging him to guard his allies. The trio weren't helpless, he firmly reminded himself, and he was no rookie knight that thought he must accomplish everything on his own. (Ganon was an _exception_. And Zelda had been vital at the end anyway. Teamwork and delegation and whatnot. Right.)

The beast remained unsettled, and Link's lips curled in a displeased snarl.

The hylian all but ripped open the animagus book, distracting himself by figuring out where he'd gone wrong. It couldn't be that difficult. The spell was complex, yes, but surprisingly short. It was probably just some word he'd mispronounced, or some nuance of wand motion he'd failed to grasp. A little fur wouldn't take that long to get rid of.

He didn't make it to class for three days.

* * *

Umbridge had sacked Trelawney. Link didn't know much about the divination teacher aside from her penchant for dramatics, but there was no way she deserved to be treated as the toad-woman treated her. The poor woman had been reduced to tears as the ministry witch flung her belongings at her with violent little flicks of her wand, appearing intent on driving Trelawney out with twisted enjoyment lining every inch of her face.

Something very wolfish and wild, still lingering close to the surface from Link's failed transformation, growled low in his chest. Until now it had been manageable, dismissed with little effort. Now however, he stalked through the Great Hall, past the growing crowd of students, something low and threatening urging him on. Umbridge had always been a nuisance, but here she was now, practically attacking another member of the faculty, a violence that had and could again be turned on his charge. That made her a threat.

He stopped in front of the toad-woman, white teeth with just a hint of fang bared, and an audible snarl tore from his throat. A dark curl of satisfaction warmed his gut when something close to fear entered her gaze.

It was very fortunate that McGonagall intervened in that moment, as Link came frighteningly close to doing something he would later regret. The transfiguration professor leaned in close as she brushed by. "If you require assistance with your transfiguration, Mr. Hyrule, you need only ask," she whispered before adding more loudly, "Now I must ask you to please step aside." Without further ado, the stern professor knelt by Trelawny, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Link bristled, but turned away from the scene, following Hermione's urgent waving to the side of the Great Hall.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed, but had time for no more than that as Dumbledore finally made his appearance. Umbridge's cruel sneer faded to outrage when the elder wizard offered Trelawney her rooms in the castle and overrode the toad-woman's every protest with the ease of long practice in dealing with the weak-minded.

He calmly circumvented Umbridge's final obstacle by presenting a new teacher the moment Trelawney was aided in returning to her suite.

By introducing their newest professor, Firenze.

All Link herd was the stamping of hooves, sharp against the stone floor, and he'd whipped around. A powerful torso sat proudly atop four legs, coated in tawny fur, and the hylian's first thought was _'Lynel, the man's brought a Goddess-forsaken_ lynel _into the castle-"_

Link's gaze darkened. He barely remembered moving. For that matter, he barely remembered _falling_. Hermione had seen the fierce intent threaded throughout his entire being and had reacted with a lightning-fast trip-jinx that sent Link sprawling to the floor, hand twisted painfully where it caught in his pack as he'd reached for the Master Sword.

It was enough to jar him back to his senses. The small group of students around them gawked at the display, the rest too distracted by Dumbledore's introduction of the _centaur_ standing in the middle of the Great Hall to notice. Powerful, yes. But sleek and refined and intelligent in ways that lynels simply weren't. The centaur - Firenze, Link recalled dimly - turned straight toward him and bright blue eyes met blue.

Link was caught in that intense stare for a long moment, horrified, because _what the hell was wrong with him?_ It was one thing for added worry about his friends to make his control slip a little. This was something else entirely.

The students between them shifted, blocking out the centaur's gaze. "Link?" Hermione asked warily, pulling him to his feet. "Are you alright? What _was_ that?"

The hylian shook his head, murmured a vague apology in her direction, and fled.

* * *

The following couple of days passed without much of note; Harry reported no unusual dreams beyond a single recurrence of the corridor at the Ministry, which they all hoped meant his occlumency was going well. Research had once more stalled. No sudden tests or outbursts or new Educational Decrees hindered them at all, which left Link plenty of time to fret over his disastrous animagus training.

Link had eventually slunk into McGonagall's office, following her whispered suggestion in the Great Hall, shamefaced and a little scared. The witch given him a severe look and warned him of his greatest failing; he was falling prey to his animal's instincts. "The point," she'd said stiffy, "is to retain the human mind, not succumb to the beast's." What followed were several pointed instructions on how _not_ to lose his mind to primal instinct, a feat that had planted a firm wall in his progress.

He was unashamedly afraid to lose himself again.

Link ardently stuck to bookwork for a solid three weeks, searching with a frenzied intensity for any more mention of gateways or dementors in relation to them. But without any success to speak of, there was little to distract him from that urgent anxiety that filled him whenever he so much as thought the word 'animagus.' The longer he procrastinated, the worse it got, until finally he broke down and hesitantly tried once again to transform.

 _"Keep in your mind everything that makes you human, everything that separates you from an animal. You are a wizard, not a beast."_ He repeated McGonagall's words to himself over and over, holding in his heart thoughts of Zelda, of Hyrule, of those lost and those to be gained, but he quickly realized those thoughts were wrong. Animals could love and grieve and share affection as surely as any human; it was in a wolf's nature, as pack animals and monogamous mates. It was in their instincts to care for their own as surely as it was to protect their pack or hunt their prey.

So Link thought of rules, of holding himself back and keeping himself restrained. Of long hours training to perfect his craft. The feel of a blade rubbing callouses into his hands, the soft leather of reins and the stiffer hide of a saddle as he rode behind his princess. He thought of kings and castles and duty passed through the ages and into legend. Of armor that guarded him from the world, and machines that let him manipulate it.

His next attempt went a little easier. The next even easier, until the wolf retreated from the fore of his mind and once again Link could relax into the familiarity of practice and hard work.

By the time the next DA meeting rolled around Link had stuck himself with furry ears, a tail, and a set of wicked fangs that made it particularly difficult to speak, and was once more hiding in the Room of Requirement. Hermione had insisted on this precaution, primarily because if Umbridge suspected Link of attempting an illegal animagus transformation, she could get him arrested. Thankfully, the beast seemed to have been calmed, and no violent impulse needed restraining at the thought of the toad-woman.

"Do it again," Lee said, fascinated, as the rest of the DA snuck their way into the Room. Link bared his fangs and the boy shook his head in morbid interest. "You look just like a shark with those teeth, mate." Link poked at one of his fangs and wondered absently what Sidon would think.

Fred and George cackled gleefully. They had better not give him fins next, or so help him he was dunking them in the lake.

Link had ended up brainstorming with Harry and Hermione for suggestions on how to simulate a live battle with little risk of real injury. He'd thought perhaps having the students combat each other in teams using disarming charms and stinging hexes might work, but Hermione thought they should work their way up to firing live spells like that. Get them used to dodging and blocking first.

The Hylian hadn't been so sure. Harry had them practicing shield spells, in particular Protego, for a few weeks in February, and stinging hexes were only a little painful, not dangerous. The added threat of real pain helped drive home the relative seriousness of these exercises too, and added incentive for better performance. Hermione had scrunched her nose at that and Link wondered if perhaps it was her own reluctance to get hit that gave her such a dislike for the idea.

Harry had wound up suggesting a compromise in the form of dodgeball, to which the Room had summoned a plethora of soft balls for the students to throw at each other. Their last DA meeting had consisted of Harry explaining the rules of the game to a crowd of over two-dozen skeptical witches and wizards, with Link adding that shield charms and disarming spells were acceptable, but no others.

The result? Instant chaos. The game itself had lasted about an hour; the rest of the time had been devoted to imparting tips and advice about spatial awareness and dodging efficiently in place of the more ennergy-consuming and less reliable shields, with enough practical work thrown in to exhaust everyone. They'd ended up overrunning that part of the meeting, and had to pass on practicing a spell _everyone_ had been eager to continue working on, and one Harry had only just started teaching them that March.

Sneaking the students back to their respective dorms that night had been a real pain.

Tonight fared little better, and Link was just thinking that stinging hexes would be a necessary motivator when Harry called a halt to their practice. Finally, they were getting back to the lessons that had everyone so eager.

The Patronus.

Link had no idea what that even was when they'd first started learning, but the others had all been very impressed by Harry's ability with the spell, so it must have been fairly difficult. And then he'd displayed a stunning silver stag...

 _A goat, a serpent, a bird, and an ape flashed through his mind, massive and luminescent._ Link had shaken his head, clearing it of the distraction to focus on Harry's beautiful spellwork. The light spirits felt important in that same vague way his fragments of memory of the Hero of Twilight did, but Link simply didn't know enough to understand _why_.

Link shifted his focus back to the present. Honestly, when the hylian first learned the patronus was meant to drive away dementors he'd thought to retreat to a corner to continue work on his animagus transformation, but curiosity had eventually won out.

He tapped his wand hopefully against the fangs lining his mouth, acutely relieved when they flattened a little. It felt bizarre, but he could speak like this. Probably.

The hylian closed his eyes, summoning the memory of his and Zelda's wedding, feeling a pleasant warmth circling his heart. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ he murmured. A shining mist spewed forth from his wand, but no creature. Link wondered what he was doing wrong.

"What memory were you thinking of?" Harry asked quietly, nearly drowned out by the sound of casting students. A few silvery animals gamboled about, swiping at puffs of mist issued forth by those that had yet to succeed.

"My wedding," Link replied with a slight frown.

Harry blinked, looking just as consternated. "Aren't weddings happy? I mean, you _looked_ happy when you showed us that photo of your wife."

Link hummed thoughtfully. Maybe that was it. He was happy whenever he was with Zelda, but their wedding... well, it had been rushed. Neither of them had been quite ready, but Zelda had bowed to the pressures exerted by those that recalled the old ways. Her blood was that of Hylia, and even if she hadn't cared to observe all of their century-gone traditions, continuing her line was paramount. If the blood of the Goddess was lost, there would be nothing to stand in the way of Ganon's next rise. It was the sole rule that no one had been willing to compromise.

Point being, for the security of the country, Zelda needed an heir. For that, she needed a husband. The severity of this rule was such that no coronation could take place with her unwed.

Link's position as Hero worked well for him there. He had been the only person in existence with ties to every chieftan or equivalent thereof in every race, and had gained allies in every town. There had been no one better suited for the role of king consort than he. And so they'd married, Zelda had been crowned Queen, and she had extended to him the authority of an actual King so that they could rule on equal terms. It had all looked very nice on paper, and indeed events had worked out quite well in the end.

They just hadn't been ready at the time.

Perhaps it was that lingering recollection of fear and uncertainty that was tainting his spellwork now, Link mused, lupine ears pinning back. It felt so silly now, but at the time they'd been terrified of the changes that would be wrought by such a step.

A different memory then. Link thought back, to that shining moment of victory when the Dark Beast had been defeated and Zelda had descended from incorporeal light. He'd held her in his arms for the first time in a century, filled to the brim with _relief-happiness-love_ at her slight but very real presence. The dirt and grime and exhaustion of the fierce battle had been forgotten by her mere presence. She had been there, whole and healthy and _alive_ , and every wish he'd had since waking in the Shrine had seemed possible in that moment.

Link smiled. _"Expecto Patronum!_ " he called, voice light with confidence, and bright silver splashed from his wand, swirling into the shape of a massive bird. It circled overhead once before landing in front of him, looming over the hylian with its massive bulk. Its fluffy tail curled over its back as the bird clicked its thick beak, massive wings furling at its sides.

He'd never seen such a creature, but something about it seemed familiar nonetheless. Link raised his hand, fingers skimming over the bird's long neck and tingling with the power of his patronus. It leaned into the touch, though in all likelihood the bird couldn't even feel it. Link's smile widened.

 _'Hello again, old friend.'_

That was when things went very, very wrong.

Harry had wandered off while Link had been concentrating, and was now the center of a small commotion by the door. Link could hear a high-pitched voice wail something about 'her' through the murmuring crowd, but Harry's next bellow was perfectly audible.

"RUN!"

Link hung back as the DA scattered in a panicked evacuation of the Room, casting his gaze about for anything incriminating. His gaze alighted on the Army's sign-up sheet, pinned conspicuously to the wall. He cursed, snagging the parchment just as Hermione yanked him toward the door. It tore, leaving only fragments still tacked to the wall. Link hoped there was nothing important remaining there.

"Where's Harry?" Link asked the bushy-haired witch as they pelted outside. Ron was halfway down the hall already, but the green-eyed wizard was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know!" her sharp brown eyes panned along the corridor. "There!" she exclaimed, just in time to see the wizard trip over thin air. Harry turned the motion into a neat, practiced somersault and was up off the floor in a heartbeat, pelting full-tilt down the hall and out of sight. A familiar, pasty blond lurched out of hiding after him, a poorly-aimed spell flying from his wand. Malfoy careened down the corridor after the Boy-Who-Lived, but it was clear he wasn't fast enough to keep up.

"Come on," Link urged, slipping his hand in the girl's and pulling her along. If Umbridge had recruited students to do her dirty work, then there were likely others lying in wait. The hylian crammed the parchment into his pack as they ran, fishing around for Harry's cloak in the same motion. The silken material fell into his hand, the korok's enchantments holding true, and he swung the cloak over their heads. It draped over them neatly and the duo vanished from sight.

* * *

Harry panted as he entered the common room a couple hours later, hair windswept and eyes a little wild. He'd booked it there straight from the Headmaster's office.

An anxious Hermione rose immediately from her seat by the fire. Link glanced up sharply, lupine ears perking. Harry resisted the urge to laugh at him, instead welcoming Hermione's powerful hug. He could all but see the questions just waiting to be fired.

"Where were you mate?" Ron beat her to the punch. "We've been waiting ages!"

"You won't believe this," Harry breathed, "but Umbridge actually got the Minister here."

"What?!" Hermione gasped.

He nodded. "She sent Filch after me. He was waiting just outside the bathroom door," he explained briefly. He'd hidden inside for a solid twenty minutes. Malfoy had run straight past the door, but had likely been the one to tell Umbridge he'd seen him leaving the Room of Requirement. After the Slytherin's failure she'd sent Filch instead, and the foul-tempered caretaker had dragged him straight to Dumbledore's office.

"Fudge asked all sorts of questions about the DA," Harry couldn't resist grinning, "but Dumbledore headed him off. He couldn't do a thing! Umbridge nearly threw a fit. The most she could accuse me of was running through the corridors." As mad as he still was at the Headmaster, watching him calmly railroad over Umbridge and the Minster had been awesome.

"Since when is a school group important to the Minster for Magic?" Ron squawked in the same instant Hermione asked, "But how did they _know_?"

Harry's smile dimmed. "Marietta Edgecombe," he scowled. "She ratted us out." He paused slightly before adding, "Nice jinx by the way."

Hermione looked taken aback. "Thank you. But... that jinx doesn't stop people from talking altogether. Did she have second thoughts?"

Harry frowned. "I don't think so... I think Kingsley might have jinxed her, but she didn't say a word."

"Kingsley was there too?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"Fudge brought him and another auror."

"Were they hoping to arrest you?" Ron gawked. "Blimey, mate. Umbridge is off her nut if she thinks that'll fly over a _school club_ of all things. So's Fudge." Especially now that the Quibbler article had been read by so many. Harry had far more supporters amongst the wizarding community than he thought. No longer was the Prophet able to get away with flatly calling him mad. The number of readers that supported that nonsense had since dropped sharply, and Harry was gratified to hear about the number of complaints the paper had been receiving over the whole mess.

"More like Dumbledore," Hermione scowled. "I bet you anything they were hoping for evidence of their wild theory that he's building an army here."

"And they thought they could arrest him? With _two aurors_?" Ron shook his head incredulously.

"Good that they didn't find anything then," Harry said dryly. "The only thing left in the Room was a bit of parchment that said 'Dumb-' stuck to the wall. Well, that and a bunch of Defense books, but they can't tell me off for studying, and they didn't catch anyone else."

Hermione sighed in relief.

"What about our meetings then?" Ron asked mournfully.

"The Room's been compromised," Link pointed out and Harry jumped. He'd almost forgot the elfin blond was there. "There isn't anywhere else such a large group can discreetly practice, is there?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not on Hogwarts' grounds. Not that I'm aware of, at any rate."

Harry felt his mood sink at that. The DA had been one of the few things that made Hogwarts worth returning to this year. If they were forced to disband, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. His only other outlet was Quidditch, but with Ron having such a bad time of it, the sport wasn't quite as fun this year either.

"I guess they're cancelled," Harry groused.

Link shot him a considering look. "You could always join me," he offered, holding up the mysterious book that had appeared in his belongings over the holidays. "Snuffles was hoping you'd be interested."

"In becoming animagi?" Hermione asked, disinterested. She was not overly fond of animals outside Crookshanks, Harry mused. If she were going to attempt the transformation, it would be more out of scholarly curiosity than anything else.

"Oh yeah," Ron perked up a bit. "Didn't Si- uh, Snuffles and your dad become animagi in their fifth year?"

Harry eyed Link's lupine tail warily as it swayed back and forth. "Yeah. D'you think it would be useful?" Only, Harry didn't really want to end up with extra limbs for months on end while figuring it out. He got enough stares as it was.

"More useful are your occlumency lessons," Hermione threw in bossily. "How are they coming along?"

The green-eyed wizard resisted the urge to groan. "I think Snape's making it worse." Every time he thought he had a handle on his emotions, Snape would attack his mind with legilimency and Harry would be left with a pounding headache. Mondays and Wednesdays after his "lessons" were the worst. The dreams were more intense then, and Harry couldn't fathom that they were actually helping. He got more use out of Link's breathing exercises. "I've been having dreams almost every night lately."

Hermione looked alarmed.

" _I'd_ be interested in becoming an animagus!" Ron interrupted loudly, cutting through the discomforting turn the conversation had taken.

"Ron, you can't even conjure a teacup yet," Hermione sniffed. "Besides, Angelina's been wanting to put in a few more hours of practice a week. I think she might actually be planning it right now." Harry wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or not that she'd do such a thing mere hours after the Room had been compromised.

The redhead wilted. "What's the use?" he moaned. "I'm terrible. It'll be a miracle if we win the Cup, great seeker or not."

Harry felt simultaneously warmed by the compliment and upset at Ron's defeated slump, but there was not much more he could say. They'd been going over this since Ron joined the team, it felt like, and Harry wouldn't be very surprised if Ron finally quit, as he'd been perilously close to doing for months now. "You just need a bit more confidence, is all," he tried half-heartedly.

Ron, if at all possible, sunk even further into his seat. "What's there to be confident of? You heard her," he waved offhandedly in Hermione's direction, "I'm not much good at anything, am I?" he asked bitterly.

Hermione sat ramrod straight in alarm. "I said no such thing!" she sputtered. "If you just applied yourself a bit more... and, like Harry said, had a bit more confidence... I'm sure you'd be flying a lot better!"

She didn't sound any more convincing than Harry had. "Right." Ron drooped, slinging his schoolbooks over his shoulder. He dragged his feet all the way to the boys' dorms.

The three watched him go in silence. Harry sighed deeply. "I think I'm headed to bed too," he said drearily. Whatever good cheer remaining had vanished with Ron, and there was no way he was going to be able to focus on homework now.

It had been an exhausting day. In no time at all, Harry was fast asleep, dreams taking him far away, to a glass-filled room in the Department of Mysteries...


	9. Chapter 9

Two nights later Harry slunk into the common room, pale and distracted.

"Did occlumency go that badly?" Link asked softly. He was aware Harry despised the teacher, and that the feeling was perfectly mutual, but the green-eyed wizard had been completing the lessons as well as he could regardless.

Harry blinked, as though just becoming aware of his presence. The Boy-Who-Lived was not normally so unobservant, so he must truly have something big on his mind. "I no longer taking it," he replied absently.

Hermione glanced up sharply from where she was color-coding a study schedule for their last month or so before exams. Link was painfully aware that the school year lasted around nine calendar months. Had it really been so long?

"What do you mean you're no longer taking occlumency?" Hermione asked warningly.

"Er, Snape thinks I can get along well enough on my own now," he said awkwardly, and so obviously lying that Link nearly cringed on his behalf.

"Harry," Link started slowly, "didn't you say just two days ago that you thought it was getting worse?"

"Er, well..."

"He did," Hermione replied crossly. "He said that he's been having dreams of that corridor almost every night."

Harry looked like he regretted Hermione's memory more than anything else in that moment. His eyes flitted about the common room, as though hoping for a distraction to come save him. He was out of luck there. Ron was down at the pitch, putting in hours that were probably unhealthy in an attempt to drum up some hidden skill. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen.

"What happened?" Link asked gently.

"I saw something Snape didn't want me to see," Harry admitted, shamefaced.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione corrected absently. "And is that all? Surely he must have expected you to accidentally see some of his memories. Didn't you say that happened before?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, this time wasn't 'cause I'd used _protego_ ," he muttered.

"What did you _do_?"

"I... I got curious-" And had looked somewhere he was not meant to go, Link filled in grimly. Hermione clearly thought the same. Clearly whatever he'd learned had been intensely personal to the man, but it appeared to upset Harry just as much.

"Harry! You _need_ those lessons! You _have_ to go apologize to Professor Snape!" Hermione was saying.

"No I haven't!" Harry interrupted, alarmed. "He'll kill me! You didn't see how mad he was! I thought he was going to curse me when I left."

"But you _need these lessons_ ," Hermione repeated, sounding a little afraid. "What if Voldemort uses your connection against you somehow?" she asked quietly, glancing around furtively. Fortunately, no one else was in earshot.

"I don't see how my knowing when he's happy does anything for him," Harry bit back. "And I've been having these dreams since this summer, way before Mr. Weasley got bit by that snake. How could he be using those dreams if he didn't know I was having them?"

"But what if he does _now_?"

Sadly, none of Hermione's nagging seemed to be getting through to her friend. Harry just shook his head. "Besides, they saved Mr. Weasley's life, didn't they? Maybe these dreams are a good thing!"

"That's a dangerous way to think, Harry" Link said, now also starting to feel alarmed. "Didn't Dumbledore say your connection-"

Harry whipped towards him, suddenly furious. "Dumbledore doesn't say anything! He hasn't spoken to me since last June!"

The green-eyed wizard hadn't had such a fit of temper in months. "That doesn't mean he's wrong," Link tried to say, but the boy would have none of it.

"I'm not talking to Snape," he insisted darkly, and stomped upstairs without another word.

Hermione slowly lowered her quill, colored ink dripping slowly onto the table. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "He's going to get himself hurt," she whispered. "We'll have all seen it coming, but he's going to get himself hurt anyway because he won't _listen to us_."

Link couldn't find it in him to disagree. He could do many things, but there was no protecting people from themselves, not when they attacked their own lives with such determination. Even worse, there would be no point in going to a teacher. Dumbledore had indeed been avoiding Harry, and was not likely to break their near year-long streak of no contact, and none of the other teachers were likely to make Harry return to his lessons. They couldn't force Harry and Snape to reconcile, and no one but the Headmaster could make them cooperate, even in the loosest sense.

Harry himself was going to have to see reason, but if he'd really come to see the dreams as a good thing, it was likely already too late.

Link sighed. "We'll just have to try again when he's calmed down."

Unfortunately, Harry didn't care to let them. He remained distracted and irritable up to and including his scheduled career consultation with McGonagall, and Link couldn't be sure Harry was even practicing the meditation he'd learned from the hylian anymore. It was only when Ginny spoke with them that they even realized he was planning something rash.

"You mean you didn't know?" she asked in clear surprise.

Harry was apparently dead set on breaking into Umbridge's office again, this time to access her fireplace. Logically, it would be the only one in the school that would be unmonitored, especially now that the Room of Requirement was also under watch. Ginny had quietly alerted them that the twins were keen on causing a disruption on Harry's behalf.

"Did he lose all sense along with Snape's lessons?" Hermione tutted furiously. "If he's just making a fire-call, he doesn't need a fireplace connected to the network; I told him that months ago. We've done this several times now!"

"Umbridge is monitoring the classrooms, dorms, _and_ the Room of Requirement," Ron pointed out easily. "He wants to talk to Snuffles; the only one she won't catch him at is the fire in her office."

Hermione looked at the Weasley as though he were insane. "But that's only if we can keep her away from it, Ron. It's _her own office_." An office the toad-woman had all but been sleeping in, lately; a habit she'd taken up after their second message. In addition, the curses and hexes she'd laid to protect the office were more vicious then ever. Hermione had caught her preparing them once, and had come back to Gryffindor tower a little pale. The woman was certainly going out of her way to catch her blackmailers, and this was absolutely going to hurt Harry's chances of having a conversation with his godfather unscathed.

"If we can't stop him then let's at least try to convince Harry to sneak into the Room of Requirement instead," Link replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stave off a headache. "That won't be quite as dangerous, and I don't think Umbridge has a way to monitor fireplaces that aren't even there half the time."

"Maybe," Hermione said, unconvinced. "But what about Fred and George? They'll be expelled if Umbridge catches them causing a scene."

Ron shook his head. "That's one thing I wouldn't worry about. They don't get caught if they don't want to. Not by teachers."

It was tough work getting Harry to see reason. Link could feel every inch of goodwill they'd lost in their unfortunate attempt to convince the boy to apologize to Snape.

"Well what would you rather do?!" Hermione eventually snapped. "Get more petty revenge on Umbridge by sneaking into her office, or actually talk to Snuffles?!"

That at least gave Harry pause. "Fine," he said finally, and the three of them nearly dropped out of sheer relief. "But I'm talking to Snuffles _alone_ ," he insisted. There was no arguing with him on that point, as he refused to divulge the reason he needed this conversation in the first place.

Hermione quickly capitulated, but that left them with nothing to do but wait as Fred and George carried out whatever insane plan they had, Harry sneaking off under his father's cloak, Maruauder's Map in hand.

Fred and George, as it turned out, dropped a swamp right in front of Umbridge's office. While she was still inside. They'd then proceeded to light fireworks down the corridor leading to the Room, luring the lone prefect and Filch into chasing them throughout the castle. It was a brilliant display that had Fred and George high-fiving each other and discreetly raking in Galleons as they sold more of each product to an impressed student body... or whoever was willing to keep silent, really. Link later heard that Trelawney had purchased a few herself, and could swear he saw Flitwick pocketing a portable swamp for later "study."

Harry returned from the Room triumphantly and, more importantly, undiscovered. Link eyed the green-eyed wizard in displeasure. "Did you at least find what you were looking for?" he asked seriously.

"I think so," he said slowly, but did not elaborate. "Lupin and Snuffles think I need to go back to Snape's lessons too," he admitted quietly.

"Are you?"

There was no answer.

* * *

Harry had been worried about Hagrid ever since Firenze had left him a warning to pass on to the half-giant. Well, no, he'd been worried since Hagrid had returned to Hogwarts. Firenze had only added to it.

Link watched as the Sidon-sized man wrung his hands anxiously, glancing up at the Pitch every now and then before striding purposefully into the forest. Harry had good reason to be worried, he mused. The man didn't show up without new bruises or cuts each time they saw him, and his nervous behavior would have rung all sorts of alarm bells if Hermione had been more concerned about it.

Harry seemed to think it meant Hagrid was trying to keep a secret, something he was notoriously bad at. Hermione and Ron agreed, with the added information that the man likely had some dangerous new pet or other. But Firenze's warning had caused them to reconsider.

Only, whenever they brought it up, Hagrid grew cagy and quiet. Harry had eventually given it up as a bad job. Hagrid could handle himself, and the trio were so busy they had no further time to convince the man to share. Things likely would have continued in this manner had Hagrid not reported to their last CoMC class unable to bend his arm properly. Hermione had quietly entreated Link to find out what was going on. Firenze wouldn't tell Harry, Hagrid would tell none of them, and the half-giant's track record with dangerous creatures was incredibly bad. Needless to say, she wanted to help their large friend and stop him injuring himself further.

Link figured now was as good a time as any. The students were all occupied by the final Quidditch match of the season, an activity that incited no particular interest in the hylian, but which occupied the vast majority of the school. Hagrid seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he was less careful that day about sneaking his way into the Forest.

Link's purpose here was two-fold. One, he was going to figure out what had Hagrid looking like he'd had a round or two with an unarmed lynel for his friends. And two, he had finally successfully transformed for the first time only yesterday. Hagrid was not in mortal peril, and the Forest would be the perfect place to hide illicit transfigurations. Now was the perfect time to put his animagus form through its paces.

The hylian crept to the edge of the tree line, making sure to keep the half-giant in earshot at all times before sucking in a deep breath, slowing his heartrate and drawing his wand. _'Focus on the things that make you hylian. Let your soul guide the form of the beast.'_ Link swept his wand through tight, practiced motions, a soft incantation breathed from his lips.

His eye-level lowered by perhaps a foot as Link collapsed to all fours, body stretching into the sleek form of a massive wolf. Silver and white fur gleamed in the sunlight shining through the trees, and Link shook out a thick mane of blue-grey fur as he stood on padded feet.

The first transformation, completed in an unused classroom after hours, had gifted the hylian with a brief look in a mirror. Wolves native to Hyrule were not quite as large, and bore only plain coats one or two colors. Link's silver and white swirled in exotic patterns along his side and muzzle, a pale diamond shape not found in nature stamped on the crest of his brow. Niether did the Hyrulean wolves bear thick manes like Link's angelite scruff, nor his clear blue eyes, the only things to remain the same between man and beast.

His wolf was both faintly familiar and fully foreign, and the sharp urgency Link had felt in his pursuit of the magic finally dissipated at its realization

Link focused back on the present, staring into the darkened treeline with the sharp clarity of his lupine gaze. He padded after Hagrid, silent as a poe.

The half-giant lumbered easily through the wood, an odd, horizontal bow with a thick handle held in one hand. It was the closest thing Link had seen to a normal weapon at Hogwarts, though the small mechanisms he could barely make out in the waning light gave it an oddly mechanical appearance that didn't mesh at all with what the hylian knew of advanced weaponry.

Link made sure to keep his distance regardless. The strange arrow hooked in the machine would be lethal if it hit, odd device or no.

They walked for quite some time. The hylian had only been in the Forbidden Forest a few times for classes, the urge to explore mitigated by his need to research and study. Those areas, all fairly close to the castle and near safe pathways, had been passed early in their trek.

Link's hearing, advanced over even his hylian senses, picked it up first. A low, rhythmic sound like giant rocks shifting against one another sounded in the near distance. Hagrid perked up at it, rounded around a tree, and Link cautiously followed.

At first he thought it was a Talus. What appeared to be massive grey boulders shifted and rose with a crashing sound. Thick ropes stretched through the ancient trees surrounding the huge figure, which shifted and groaned as Hagrid roared in greeting.

"Grawp!" He hollered, and Link stepped back, ears pinned flat against his head. "Grawpy, I've got some new words fer yeh to try today."

New words? The creature stood abruptly with a loud roar of displeasure.

Link blinked up at the giant - for what else could it be - in astonishment. Hagrid was... teaching it? Or trying to. The hylian imagined he was having as much success as Purah might if she decided training moblins to dance was a worthy endeavor.

The next hour or so passed painfully. Hagrid tried and failed to show off objects to Grawp, shouting their identities in English all the while. The giant would pay him no mind whatsoever. Hagrid would redouble his efforts, and Grawp would turn or make some other sudden movement that sent the half-giant sprawling to the ground.

An involuntary whine left Link's throat. He could respect determination, but this seemed closer to delusion. All the injuries Hagrid sported... it was now painfully obvious they came from the giant.

Eventually Hagrid deemed the lesson finished, though whether Grawp managed to learn anything was unlikely. Link slunk after the man uneasily. What could they do about a problem like this? They couldn't get rid of Grawp without upsetting Hagrid, and the massive being didn't seem to want much more than to be left alone anyway.

But they could hardly leave the giant there. If anyone other than Hagrid stumbled upon Grawp, the results would be disastrous. The force of even his turns tossed the Sidon-sized man around like a doll. Goddess-forbid Grawp hit anyone else.

Lupine ears flicked as a rhythmic sound met them. Link raised his muzzle and sniffed at the air trying to pinpoint the newcomer's scent through the hundreds of new and intensified smells around him. It smelled familiar, but it wasn't until the creature stepped into the low light that he recognized the scent for what it was.

A centaur strode between the trees, narrowed gaze locked on the half-giant. Hagrid swore.

The chestnut centaur was followed by around half-a-dozen others, a black-coated one pulling up just behind the first. They circled Hagrid, raising bows and slipping arrows from quivers. "You were warned, Hagrid, of what would occur should you set foot here again."

Hagrid merely scoffed, raising his bow-like contraption threateningly. "This ain't jus' yer forest, Magorian," he said flatly. "Yeh ain't got no righ' to tell me I can't be here."

"You lost that right when you aided the traitor Firenze," Magorian returned easily. The black-coated centaur at his side stamped a hoof.

"Yeh won't shame me fer stoppin' a murder," the half-giant retorted furiously.

"We should just do away with him now," the dark-furred centaur said, nocking an arrow. "It is what we agreed upon, is it not?"

Link had heard enough. Without a second thought he launched himself forward, blitzing past a startled Hagrid to latch his teeth on the centaur's wrist, forcing him to drop the bow with a yell.

An arrow screamed past his ear as he dropped to the leaf-strewn floor and Link snarled, spinning and leaping at a grey centaur and catching the bow rather than the hand. The wood snapped in his jaws like dry kindling.

Magorian's remaining entourage had not been idle, rearing back and nocking arrows, hooves thudding dangerously near Link's slighter frame, just as dangerous as the weapons themselves. The black centaur took a long moment to retrieve his bow - it was a fact of his biology that made bending over a task he was ill-suited to, but retrieve it he did.

Link darted daringly under his hooves, forcing the others to stay their hands lest they hit one of their own. Most of them, anyway. The grey-coated centaur fired with a confidence only attained by hundreds of hours of training, and an arrow zipped through the black centaur's legs to thud painfully in Link's thigh. He yelped, leg crumpling beneath him.

"STOP!" Hagrid bellowed, loud enough it seemed, to rattle the surrounding trees. "JUS' STOP!" And for a fraction of a second everyone froze.

"What manner of beast is this?" Magorian frowned. "Bane, step aside."

Thus named, Bane leapt from his spot over Link, doubling back to draw even with the rest of his group. They raised their bows warily, but Magorian seemed unconcerned. He casually stepped in front of them, leaning down to examine the wolf.

Hagrid lurched forward and planted himself next to Link, big hands hovering over the arrow shaft stuck in his leg. Magorian ignored him.

"You are not a wolf," the chestnut centaur said, gaze fixed on the pale canine. "What are you doing here, child of Hylia?" A couple of the centaurs pawed the ground nervously at that.

Link startled before sliding painfully in front of Hagrid. He snarled, teeth bared. There was no more obvious gesture he could make.

"That is not what I meant," the centaur continued. "Your presence here on Earth should not be. The gateways have been lost for centures. Only one yet remains, hidden by wizards that have long forgotten its purpose. No child of Hylia should be here."

Link stopped growling, ears pointing straight up at Magorian's words. He tilted his head in confusion.

"You do not know," the centaur mused, straightening. Link whined.

"That which you seek is buried within the wizards' seat of power," Magorian said. "But the key, I think, lies with you, Goddess-touched." He fixed his bow to his back, powerful hooves stamping at the dirt. "We will allow you to pass today, Hagrid. Take the traveler with you, and ensure this does not happen again. We will not sit idle while your kin threatens the forest." With that the small herd turned and left.

Hagrid swore again and lowered his mechanical bow. "C'mere, little fella," Hagrid said, and Link yelped as he was easily cradled in the half-giant's hands.

"Don't rightly know wha' he was talkin' 'bout, but let's get yeh fixed up all nice an' proper, yeah?" He carried the animagus all the way back to his hut, where he settled him down next to his dog, Fang. Hagrid removed the arrow and cleaned the wound with deft, gentle hands, Link holding as still as he was able. It was clear the man had treated animals many times, and the hylian gratefully rested in the half-giant's care until the sun dipped low in the sky.

Finally, when Hagrid's thunderous snores started rattling through the hut, Link quietly limped away, mind spinning with all the things head learned that day. He needed to think on what the centaur had told him, and warn his friends about the giant sleeping in the Forest.

 _'But first,'_ he thought, wincing at the sharp ache in his leg, _'Mipha's Grace.'_

* * *

Link did tell the trio about Grawp, but that was all he had time to do. The fifth years of Gryffindor House were practically mad with last minute studying, books and notes and wands out and in use every second of the following day. Even the good cheer from Ron's unexpectedly proud performance on the Quidditch Pitch was overshadowed by the fevered intensity with which the students tore through all they'd learned in the past five years. Hagrid was just going to have to carry on as he was, it seemed. As long as Umbridge didn't manage to fire him, things would probably be okay.

The hylian didn't know what all the fuss was about; surely if they'd paid attention to their studies they had no cause to worry? Though the closest he'd ever had to an examination was the Captain of the Guard inspecting his unit when he was but fourteen years old, and they had to follow regulations to the letter or risk punishment by going over them again through pouring rain, freezing sleet, and viscous mud. Which they'd ended up doing. _Twice_. Some silly paper tests couldn't possibly be much more demanding than that.

Hermione had shot him a truly vile look when he told her as much, a wild look in her eyes that had Link backing away slowly.

Even Ron and Harry were beginning to panic, a fact which had Fred and George laughing uproariously despite their own upcoming exams. NEWTs had to be more difficult - they were the equivalent tests for more advanced students after all - but the twins didn't look worried in the slightest. Granted, they'd only achieved three OWLs apiece, so it wasn't like they had many exams to sit, but still. If they kept up their obnoxiously relaxed cheer, an entire year's worth of students might just be driven to murder.

Link might have found it all funny himself if he didn't want Hermione to hex him.

Still, the days passed quickly, the hylian sitting the exams with everyone else. He wasn't particularly fussed about the results - mostly he considered the whole thing a waste of time when he should be working on figuring out how to get to the "wizard's seat of power" as Magorian had put it. Link tentatively guessed that meant where their government sat, their Ministry of Magic, which was both good and bad. Good because he knew roughly where to look. Bad because who in their right mind would let a random foreigner search through their government building?

Unfortunately his brainstorming partner was beside herself studying and testing and overall worrying, so there was little to do but wait out her frenzy, which lasted the entire week their examinations were held. Link coasted through the tests without much care, warily making sure the bushy-haired witch didn't notice his easy mood for fear of attracting her suddenly ferocious temper, when at last the end was in sight.

History of Magic was not an exam Link had to sit, of course, given that he'd not taken the subject in the first place. His tests were over, but it would be Hermione's final one. Link was just relaxing into the thought of having his research buddy back in top form when things finally went awry.

Harry streamed out of the examination room with a tense expression and fear lingering in his gaze. The younger wizard grasped the hylian's arm as soon as he escaped the worried examiner, all but dragging the blond to an empty room. "Sirius has been captured!" he gasped as soon as they had a modicum of privacy. "Voldemort's got him!"

"What?! Harry, are you sure?"

"I know what I saw!" the green-eyed wizard barked, fingers clenching into worried fists. "I've got to do something!" He spun on his heel, marching back into the hallway, only to turn right back around, Hermione and Ron in tow.

Hermione looked scared. "Harry, we've got to tell someone," she said desperately. "If it's true, then the Order can help us," she added. Her hands were up in a placating gesture and she was clearly trying very hard to stop Harry doing anything rash.

Harry's expression tightened. He looked positively infuriated. "D'you think Dumbledore will listen?" he asked aggressively. "I'd be shocked if I could get to his office anymore."

"This isn't about your grievance with the Headmaster!" Hermione said, shocked, the same instant Ron sputtered "Of course he will, mate!"

The green-eyed wizard was grinding his teeth in frustration but nodded nonetheless and the four swept out of the classroom. They booked it to the statue protecting the Headmaster's office, but it remained stubbornly still no matter what sweet they listed.

"What on earth is the matter?" McGonagall asked, long green robes swishing elegantly as she marched up to them.

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked instantly, and the transfiguration master's lips thinned.

"He's been called away," she said tightly. At Harry's desperate look she added, "There's been an emergency. The Order is handling it, Mr. Potter, there's no need for you to worry. But I must be going; they've called for my assistance." And without another word the gargoyle leapt out of her way. McGonagall raced up the steps, and Harry was too shocked to do more than sputter out a weak, "Wait!" in protest.

"You don't suppose that emergency she mentioned," Ron began, eyes wide.

"Sirius," Harry breathed. They traded a glance then pelted toward Hagrid's Hut. Link and Hermione bolted after them, only for all four to crash headlong into Fred and George.

"Ouch!" George squawked. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

Harry sputtered out a explanation so quickly the words nearly jumbled together unintelligibly.

"Right," Fred said firmly, having somehow understood the gist of the situation. "We're with you mate. Where to?"

But Hagrid's Hut was empty. Had all the Order members gone to see about whatever this emergency was? What about Sirius? "I need to know if they're helping him!" Harry bit out desperately.

They turned around, breathing hard from the exertion of running across the castle but in too much of a hurry to care, when they very nearly ran over Neville next. Beside him, Ginny and Luna were panting for breath. "You'll never guess what's happened!" Neville squeaked. "It's all over the WWN! Giants have been spotted in muggle Aberdeen!"

That was too much of a coincidence. An emergency of that magnitude to draw out the Order, one that risked the giants instead of Voldemort's servants, and one that would also leave Harry isolated. It was no longer a question of whether or not this was a trap; just whether or not Sirius was actually in danger. Link's heart sank at the petrified look in Harry's eyes.

"They're nowhere near London!" the Boy-Who-Lived gasped.

"Harry," Hermione begged, "please don't do anything rash!"

"I need to get to the Department of Mysteries," Harry said quickly, ignoring the witch entirely. "We've got to save Sirius!"

There was no choice but to fill in Neville, Luna, and Ginny at that point, not with Harry blurting out such critical information right in front of them. Link hastily explained while Hermione tried vainly to get Harry to see reason. She was ardently advising Harry check in with Sirius first, just to be certain.

"HERMIONE!" he bellowed, "I KNOW WHAT I SAW!"

"Please!" she said again, and now there were tears in her eyes. "Harry we just need to make sure. I'll help you however I can, I promise!"

At this last entreaty Harry finally calmed enough for the nine of them to run all the way to the Room of Requirement. The twins set of a truly astonishing number of dungbombs to clear away the prefect guarding the area. A few hasty bubblehead charms later and Link stood guard at one end of the corridor, the twins at the other, while Harry darted inside.

It was a scant few minutes later that the Boy-Who-Lived barreled right back out, distress plain on his face. "There wasn't anyone there! Just Kreacher."

"They wouldn't have let Sirius go with them," Hermione breathed, horrified. Not when the man was a known criminal, to both muggles and wizards. He wouldn't have been able to help, not if he was just causing more panic.

Unfortunately, that didn't make this any less of a trap. Just a baited one.

"Harry," Link said sharply. "Voldemort is trying to draw you out, it couldn't be any more obvious."

"It doesn't matter!" the green-eyed wizard barked, wild-eyed. "I can't lose Sirius!"

The entire group straightened in determination, ready and willing to follow Harry's lead. It was foolish, so foolish, but the hylian wasn't going to be able to stop them. The only thing he could do was ensure they got in and out with minimal casualties. He nodded slowly and Harry loosed a rattling breath.

Link bit his lip. There was still one member of the Order that might still be in the building. He backed away from the group, pointing his wand down the adjacent hallway and flicked his wand, conjuring a roll of parchment and scrawling out a hasty message. _Harry. Department Mysteries. Voldemort._ Another flick and the scroll folded itself into a paper airplane - a trick he'd seen more than once by students passing notes in class. A sharp wave sent the plane spiraling away into the castle. Hopefully risk of interception was minimal; Umbridge was likely still sucking up to the examiners before they left. Either way, there were few options available.

The note would find Snape or await McGonagall in her office. Link found himself wishing crossly for more clear lines of communication with the Order, wondering how such a gross oversight could have occurred, but it was far too late to hope for something better.

"How're we getting there, then?" he heard Ron ask quietly.

"Aren't we flying?" Luna replied dreamily as Link rejoined the group. The twins shot him a questioning look, but he shook his head. Not now.

Harry spun around, glancing at all their faces in shock and outrage. "You all aren't going anywhere! This has got nothing to do with you!"

Link watched in fascination as seven people bulled straight over Harry's objections. Two of them they barely even knew outside the DA. It was the one who was arguably most distant from their number that eventually offered them a solution, too.

Luna guided them back outside, stopping only briefly at the kitchens to grab a large raw steak, bright red and bloody. It wasn't long at all before they were standing in the forest, surrounded by skeletal horses, night-black and winged. The Weasleys and Hermione watched anxiously as grass bent and blood was licked away by creatures they couldn't see. They weren't given long to confront their nerves however, as soon they were all being helped onto the thestrals by those that could.

"Let's go," Harry said grimly, and nine pairs of wings unfurled.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Uhhh, it's still Friday? Sorry! I don't even have an excuse; I just clean forgot what day it was. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Link leaped off his thestral, staring in awe at the enormous city the others had called London. It was a massive, sprawling thing of metal and brick and glass, and had long ago choked the life out of the earth. Only sparse trees and grass grew where permitted to do so. The rest was covered solidly by buildings and roads that seemed nearly senseless in their number and organization.

He wondered how the people of Earth lived like this.

"Over here," Ron waved at them. The nine soon found themselves crammed so tightly in a metal and glass box they could hardly move an inch, thestrals left to fend for themselves. "What was it again...?" Ron muttered.

"Six, two, four, four, two," George wheezed out from where he was pinned in place with an unfortunate elbow to the gut, courtesy of Luna.

A disembodied voice asked the reason for their visit and Harry choked out their names and a vague explanation that they were there to save his godfather. There was a little series of clinks as something fell, but Link didn't get to ask what it was before they were falling, the ground rising up past the windows that surrounded the metal box.

They tumbled out as soon as they stopped moving, those closest to the doors nearly falling on their faces as they spilled into the Atrium. The building was silent and empty. No security came to greet them, no witches or wizards going about their business passed by. The only sound was the trickling of water from a large golden fountain in the center of the room.

"Well this isn't ominous at all," Fred drawled, slipping his wand out of his pocket. Link shucked his robes, stuffing them into his pack. Hogwarts students' uniforms weren't especially maneuverable, but it was better than being caught up in billowing fabric.

"The giants were a pretty blatant diversion," Link returned curtly. "Wands out at all times. If you're distracted, you're dead." Hopefully help would arrive soon. Talented though they might be, no one here could be said to be a master witch or wizard. They were squires walking into a next of gold bokos. Until the Order arrived, _if_ they arrived, it was Link's job to keep them alive.

Ron went a little pale. "Not helping, mate," he muttered, but readied his wand nonetheless. The others quickly followed suit.

"Let's head to the lifts," Ginny said, and they did just that. "What floor?"

"Down," Harry said at once. "Level nine." Perhaps this was information also found in his dreams. It was certainly all laid out very neatly.

Harry led the way, a lone door at the end of a long corridor swinging open without a touch. They stepped beyond into a dark, circular room. Candles flickered against the ebon walls that rapidly started to spin.

This... complicated things. Every door in the circular room was identical, and now they had no way to know where they had come from or where they were headed. As a security measure, it was undoubtedly ingenious. Had they functioning security, any intruders would have been caught before they could get themselves back on track.

There was nothing to do but check the doors one by one. Harry was certain he would recognize the correct pathway as soon as he saw it, and Hermione at least had the good sense to mark the incorrect ones. They opened a few into some truly bizarre spaces, one filled with floating brains, another with what had at first appeared to be shooting stars flashing across narrow pathways. Each they backed out of and marked with a burning cross-mark.

"Harry," George said quietly, when the next door opened into a glittering room filled with clocks, "we need to find the way back out first."

"This is the right way," Harry insisted. "We need to hurry."

"Always have an exit strategy," Fred said sagely. There was no hint of humor in his voice, and George and even Ginny nodded along seriously.

"If we're saving Sirius from Death Eaters, every second longer we take to get away from them is a second wasted," Link added softly.

Harry cursed but nodded. Hermione flicked her wand, green flames striking the door and sticking there in a large circle.

The next door they opened led not to the lifts, but to an empty stone room with a single archway, tattered curtains fluttering in a nonexistent wind. There was nothing but that motion that should have marked it unusual, but Link felt his breath stop as he took it in. He felt, for the first time in months, the Master Sword pulse through the leather of his pack.

"The gateway," he breathed, and Hermione cast him a sharp look. This was where Magorian had meant; it had to be. Home was just a few yards away.

"Let's go," Harry said, voice distant, and reality returned in a rush. He cast one last longing look at the pointed arch, Master Sword pulsing faintly, and backed through the open doorway.

Link forced himself to turn around. His friends needed his help. They would rescue Sirius. The students would get out of the Ministry. And then he would go. He slid his hand into his back, where the Master Sword's warm hilt met his palm. He slid it slowly out, shifting it to wield in his left, blackthorn wand clutched in his right. Neville loosed a startled little squeak, while Luna hummed in time with the Blade's pulses of light. The Sword felt only a little strange in his off-hand - he'd practiced long hours to use both with near equal skill.

It took two more doors to find the one back to the lifts, and Hermione quickly marked it with a yellow circle. They closed the door and the room spun again. It was the work of a bare second to find the correct door, and the passed through the green marked path into the room filled with clocks.

Time seemed to move strangely here, and Ginny's gaze was caught by a tiny bird being born, aging, and dying all in the span of a few seconds. Harry urged them forward, and they passed through another door. Thankfully, the walls did not start to spin and they were let through undisturbed.

"This is it," Harry whispered. "Row ninety-seven. Come on."

They passed rows and rows full of shelves containing nothing but glass orbs. There was nothing to mark them as unusual; just tiny, hand-written labels filled with meaningless letters and names.

The further they went, the more anxious Harry grew. "He should be here. Sirius should be here," he muttered lowly. But there was nothing. Not a sound outside their own footsteps could be heard. There were no Death Eaters, no voices or cries of pain. They turned down row ninety-seven.

Sirus was not there.

"I don't understand," Harry whispered. "He was right here..."

The others shifted nervously, wands up and ready. All save for Ron, whose gaze was locked on one of the little glass orbs. Blue torchlight flickered, casting a pale glow over its label.

"Why..." Harry murmured involuntarily, hand reaching for the little sphere.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione hissed.

Link froze, long ears twitching. He raised the Master Sword in a loose guard. Harry's hand closed around the orb, and the hylian's right hand lashed out.

 _"Reducto,"_ he snarled, the eight other students jumping at the flash of light.

A black robed figure became visible in the spellfire, wand snapping out a hasty shield. Link's spell splashed harmlessly against the barrier, and the figure strode forward, voice hissing in a familiar drawl, "Your guard dog has fangs, Potter. It's too bad he wasn't smart enough to stop you from coming. Still, that works out nicely for us. Now, hand me the prophecy."

It was too late; they were surrounded, the nine of them pinned between the shelves with Death Eaters at either end of the aisle. Link cursed himself for his lack of attention. He could have paid attention to their positions, could have listened for their enemies, audible to his hylian ears. But he hadn't noticed, too distracted by the veil a scant few rooms away.

Link counted out a dozen or so Death Eaters, black cloaks blending in the night-dark room, vague outlines only just visible in the weak blue torchlight. He suspected many of them were the prisoners that had broken out of Azkaban earlier that year; easy troops for the dark lord.

All the while Harry kept talking, sending quiet signals between indignant snarls at the man in lead of the Death Eaters. They ate it up, circling slowly but unable to risk firing more curses without risking the prophecy clutched in Harry's hand. The Death Eaters watched the Boy-Who-Lived like circling carrion birds, waiting, until -

"GO!" the green-eyed wizard bellowed, wand sparking with spellfire.

Arcs of light blitzed from the wands of all the students, plowing into shelves filled with delicate artifacts. Glass spheres rained down, shattering as they impacted indiscriminately with the floor and over Death Eater's heads. The students ducked and scattered, shoving their way out either end of the aisle and tossing curses over their shoulders. They bee-lined toward the room filled with clocks, Link ducking back and waiting until the last of them had passed through the door before leaving himself.

Hermione fired a quick spell that sealed the door just before the sounds of angry shouting and sharp footsteps met their ears.

Fred and George were twirling their wands rapidly, throwing things from their pockets and transfiguring them into... little glass orbs.

"That's brilliant!" Neville whispered, taking hold of one of the spheres. Fred nodded, face pale. George passed out more orbs until they all had one, and Link did a rapid head-count. They were all there, all now clutching a "prophecy" but the room was cramped full of desks and tables and little timekeeping instruments. "There's not enough room to fight in here," he hissed. "Get to the-"

A loud crash resounded through the room and the students bolted, diving under and behind furniture as the door Hermione had sealed smashed apart. Link leapt without hesitation at the noise, and drove the Master Sword into the first cloaked figure hilt-deep. The Death Eater let out a little gurgle, body jerking once before slumping as dead weight over the Blade. Link tilted the Sword and the body slid off with an ugly squelch.

Hermione screamed.

"Y-you just..." Ron choked out.

Neville was the only one who didn't lose his head. He stood, brandishing his wand at the second Death Eater as she screamed _"Avada-_ "

" _STUPEFY!"_ Neville bellowed. The Death Eater ducked, green sparks sputtering into nonexistence at the tip of her wand.

"DON'T HESITATE!" Link roared. "THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL YOU!"

Harry snapped abruptly back to his senses. "Expelliarmus!" he snapped out, just as Neville threw another stunner. The Death Eater cackled and blocked the spells with a bright shield. Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron added to the barrage, but the witch must have been powerful. The shield didn't so much as waver. Not until little Luna Lovegood took her out at the knees.

The witch went down, Luna rolling gracefully out of her tackle and to her feet. Six stunners gave the Death Eater no time at all to recover, and three disarming spells tore her wand from her grip. The enemy must have split up to search for them in the chaos, as no more came after them.

Harry turned wide green eyes at Link. "You killed him!" he gasped.

"Why are you so surprised?" the hylian demanded. When someone or something tried to kill you, you killed it first or got away. That was just common sense.

And when you were guarding another, you eliminated the threat. No questions.

Ginny burst out, indignant, "You can't just-"

"THEY'RE OVER HERE!" More shouts interrupted the young witch.

Fred cursed. "We need to get out of here!" he hollered.

George waved them over to the door, pushing into the circular room. They slammed the door shut, Hermione locking it with a quick _"Colloportus!"_

The room spun and they waited tensely for it to stop, eyes grimly picking out the yellow blur that marked the exit to the lifts.

The walls ground to a halt and the students bolted toward the yellow flame, only for another loud crash to signal the green-marked door bursting open. Link spun and swung the Master Sword in a gleaming arc. It flashed palely in the dark room, a scythe of holy energy screaming from its razor-sharp edge.

Death Eaters shouted, half a dozen voices erecting shields of pulsing magical energy. Not all of them had made it out of the clock room yet, and they hid behind the shields their cohorts had raised. One was not so lucky however, and a thick gash opened in the dark wizard's chest where the light struck. He fell and did not move again.

Another of the cloaked wizards cursed, spitting out a spell that splashed against the doors one after another in a chain that dissolved the markings Hermione had left. Red crosses vanished one by one and the last of the Death Eaters ran into the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the walls began to spin.

Wands raised threateningly on either side. "Stop!" Harry shouted, raising his sphere. As if on cue, everyone brought out an identical orb. Link gripped his wand and Sword both in a single hand, holding his "prophecy" aloft in the other.

"You want the prophecy, right?" the Boy-Who-Lived called out, ever so slightly out of breath. "Then you'd better make sure you have the right one!" The Death Eaters shifted, wands sparking threateningly. But they would not risk smashing the prophecy, and right now, they all had one.

"Where's the last guy?" George hissed under his breath. "I'm counting nine. We got two in the other room, but one's not here."

Link counted out the dark cloaks and nearly cursed aloud, eyes flicking over the once-more identical doors. They had no way of knowing which one the Death Eater would come through. "Circle around," Link murmured back, pocketing his "prophecy." It was enough that they knew he had it. "Leave no one's back open."

But he was just a second too late. The door behind the students burst open, revealing the clock room they had just come through. The final Death eater streamed through it with the sole witch at his side, and Link realized with horror that she had only been stunned and disarmed. Had no one grabbed her wand at least?

As it turned out, no one had. The witch cackled, and the students were just turning to face the new threat when a violent spell burst from her wand. Half a dozen thick spikes screamed forward. Link managed to knock one aside with the Sword, but another struck Ginny in her thigh. She went down with a yell. "Ginny!" Ron howled, diving at his sister, a shield sparking from his wand.

The others fared slightly better, and either dodged cleanly or were struck with mere glancing blows.

"Bellatrix!" the first Death Eater shouted. "NO! We must retrieve the prophecy!"

'Bellatrix' didn't seem to care. Neville went white at her name and turned to face her, shaking with fury. "REDUCTO!" he screamed, and a jet of light flashed toward the woman. She merely cackled again, twisting out of the way like a snake and sending a lash of black flame at the boy. Neville shouted as he went down, a thick burn blistering from shoulder to knee. His orb dropped from his hand, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"LINK!" Harry screamed. "DO SOMETHING!"

The hylian knew exactly what the wizard wanted him to do, but Link could not fight and heal at the same time. He dove toward Neville regardless. "Get over here!" he hollered. George levitated his sister over and the students crouched in a circle, spheres and wands out.

Meanwhile the Death Eaters had not been idle. Fortunately, they were too distracted by one of their own. "Bellatrix!" the first roared, "Stand down! If the true prophecy breaks-"

Link tuned out the noise, snatching Neville's wrist. "He's alive," he said quietly. The pulse was strong. It was likely the pain that had caused him to pass out rather than anything more serious. The burn had blistered and blackened the skin, and looked truly horrendous. "Give me Ginny."

Thick rivulets of blood were spilling down her thigh. The spike had dissolved, leaving nothing to stop the bleeding Luna was pasty white as she hovered over the other girl. The hylian reached out, hands glowing softly with Mipha's Grace. He could heal the worst of the damage, but no more than that. There wasn't time.

"I'm learning healing spells as soon as we get back," Hermione fretted. Ron looked at her incredulously. " _Now_ , Hermione, really?"

Harry had turned back to the Death Eaters, flanked by the twins. "Let us go or we'll smash all of them," he said seriously.

"You wouldn't dare, Potter!" was shouted back. "You want to know what it says just as much!"

Link took his hands from Ginny's leg, which was not totally healed, but at least no longer bleeding, whispering urgently. "Stay close as you can and cast shields as soon as I give the signal. _As close as possible_ ," he hissed. Hermione startled and nodded. She pulled the boys a little closer.

The hylian closed his eyes and focused. Of all his friends' gifts, hers was the hardest to use. Compared to the other three he had little control over it, but in a room this size, so long as the others followed his instructions precisely there would be no problem.

Blue eyes snapped open, bright gold with vicious energy. "Now!" he hollered, and the students shrunk back with a chorus of " _protego!_ "

Ubrosa's Fury unleashed, arcs of golden lightning screaming from the ceiling. An unfortunate Death Eater was struck directly by thousands upon thousands of volts of electricity. He fell to the floor in a smoking heap.

Shields sprang up around the sharper dark wizards. Bellatrix, who had retreated to stand with her fellows, was covering herself and a companion with a purple shield that glowed brightly with each flash of lightning. As soon as the thunder faded from their ears, she turned the shield at the group of students.

"NO!" the first Death Eater shouted again.

Bellatrix's shield had absorbed the lightning. Fierce gold energy spat back at Link, and he was forced to use Daruk's Protection to block the sparking beam of electricity. The madwoman showed no signs of stopping despite her comrade's protests. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " she spat, acid-green light just barely missing Luna.

"RUN!" Harry screamed. The twins scrambled to collect their downed friends and bolted to the nearest door. The group ran through, darting around the walls to give themselves some cover. The Death Eaters charged in after.

And that was when the Order arrived.

Sirius himself led the charge, closely followed by four others. Lupin and Moody were easily recognizable, but Link had barely spoken with. Tonks and Kingsley, he thought.

From there it was chaos. Spellfire flew every which way, the students adding their own stunners to the rainbow mix of curses and hexes jetting about the room.

Sirius' eyes panned briefly around the room, taking in the multitude of orbs with raised brows. "Take those and get out!" he hollered, ducking under a vicious hex.

The battle raged. Link ducked a curse that shattered a sizable chunk of stone from the raised dais the arch sat upon, flinging another ray of holy energy from the Master Sword. A firm _"Reducto,_ " spat from his wand a heartbeat later, catching a Death Eater in the ankle. His foot shattered with a thick crunch and he fell hard.

Too many allies were to spread thin to use Urbosa's Fury again. Link crouched, leaping at an angle from the floor, aided by Revali's Gale. He flung curses from his blackthorn wand overhead, causing more distraction then damage, but the ensuing chaos allowed one of Moody's spells to slip by a Death Eater's guard. He fell to the ground, stunned and bound tightly in thick ropes.

Where was Harry?

Link's question was answered a mere second later. The younger wizard _screamed_ and the hylian spun just in time to catch sight of Sirius falling through the gateway, trailed by red spellfire. Bellatrix cackled madly, darting away from the arch even as Harry surged towards it.

"SIRIUS!" Harry howled. " _SIRIUS_!" Lupin was holding him back, and suddenly Dumbledore was there. The spells spinning from the elder wizard's wand were amazing, and Link stared in awe as their opponents were rounded up in what seemed to be no time at all.

"He's not dead..." Harry choked out. "He's not! He just fell, he's right _there_!"

"Harry," Lupin whispered. "Harry, I'm _sorry_. Sirius is gone!"

The Master Sword pulsed, and an urge so powerful overtook Link that he was by the arch before he realized he was moving.

"Link!" Lupin yelled, alarmed. "What are you doing?!"

The hylian vaguely realized he was still carrying Harry's things and pulled them out one by one, dropping them to the floor. Map, cloak, knife. And a little box. That finished, he glanced around. The Order was just finishing binding and disarming the Death Eaters, his charge surrounded by close friends and allies.

"This is the way..." he breathed distantly. The Blade of Evil's Bane pulsed again, more brightly than it had since his battle with Ganon. "It's time."

Think cracks in the arch lit up with pale blue light, thrumming with energy. They beat in time with the Master Sword, like the pulsing of a massive heart. Dreamlike, he stepped forward.

"LINK, STOP!" Harry cried desperately, but the hylian barely heard it. It was like the boy was underwater, only vague ripples reaching him where words should have been.

The sounds of his friends reached only deaf ears. Link took another step, then another, and fell through the veil.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: At long last, the conclusion! I realize I was a teensy bit vague for some of this chapter (intentionally so; the characters could not have known and the explanations would have bogged down the narrative), so if you have any questions at the end, please don't hesitate to ask! (But please sign in so I can reply, yeah?)

Also, as far as sequels go; I had something in mind but ended up starting a mini-series of related crack ficlets instead. If you don't think that will ruin the end of this story for you, I can probably be persuaded to post what little I have.

Happy reading!

EDIT: SEQUEL IS UP!

* * *

Harry passed through the end of term in a state of wounded shock.

Both his godfather and friend were gone. The thought was like a virus, lingering under his skin and permeating his very being until he felt sick with it all.

Sirius had been thrown through the veil. Link had by all appearances committed suicide by following. And Harry... Harry was left behind, numb to the world and furious with it by turns. Craving both the love and care of his friends, and the solitude of his whirling thoughts.

And then there was the prophecy. Quite possibly the only true fortune ever given by an old fraud, and the reason for so many deaths. The reason his parents were murdered, why Harry was an orphan. Why his friends had been hurt defending him.

The reason Sirius had died.

Why hadn't Dumbledore told him before? The Headmaster had said it was to safeguard his happiness. Perhaps that was true. Would things have been different, knowing Voldemort was out to kill him and would never stop? Knowing it was his duty to stop him?

Harry would have liked to say no, that he had already known Voldemort would like nothing more than his death, that he had fought him before and could do so again. He wanted to believe he carried that strength, that he always had, but...

But Harry was older now, and the expectations he could feel settling over him like a thick cloak were already weighing him down. There was a prophecy. He was meant to defeat Voldemort, or at least that was what the Dark Lord himself believed. What would he have thought at eleven years old?

Would he have stood by his friends, the first he'd ever had? Or would he have run, terrified to be hunted in this brand new world he'd only barely entered?

Harry thought back to that conversation all those months ago, talking about destiny and burdens and expectations, and wished the older wizard were there for him to ask for advice. What would Link have said?

 _'Focus on what you can control.'_

And Link. He knew what it meant to be a killer. Harry remembered the sight of the elfin wizard driving a blade deep in another man. He recalled the blood, sliding thick and red, to coat the floor. Another sliced nearly in two, and a last burned beyond recognition. All three slaughtered with a cool indifference. _"Why are you surprised?"_ he'd asked, like it was the most natural action in the world. That was what Harry was going to have to be, wasn't it? That was what he needed to become.

Could he do it, when the time came?

Harry shook his head, washing himself of the thougths that had circled his mind like vultures since his conversation with Dumbledore. If he thought on it any more, surely he'd go mad.

The only bright spot in this whole mess was Umbridge finally being sacked. Hermione had picked up the box Link left behind with Harry's things, taken one look at its contents, and her face had filled with a fiery determination. She'd sent the quills off to Susan Bone's aunt, notes and all, and the toad was now stuck serving five years in Azkaban Prison. They were coldly certain the Ministry would not be able to send another in her place, not now that they'd all been revealed for fools.

Not now that the whole world knew. Knew that Voldemort was back. There would be no more hiding their heads in the sand. Every witch and wizard knew. Every witch and wizard... unknowingly depended on him now.

Harry's stomach lurched. He felt ill.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called, breaking the green-eyed wizard from his thoughts. He looked up from his place by the common room's fire. It was still cold.

"Ron," he said flatly, unable to muster up any feeling.

The redhead looked down. He hadn't smiled much lately, either, and Harry saw his eyes were faintly red, like he'd been crying. "Uh, well, it's almost time to go," he said uncertainly. "Hermione wants to know if you've packed yet."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I'm done," he answered dully. He didn't move.

Neville chose that moment to run down the stairs, trunk thudding on each step behind him. "Hey, Ron, Harry." His eyes softened in sympathy that remained unvoiced. "I was just thinking, Harry, you really helped me - us - out this year. Would you... would you maybe consider teaching us again? Next year, I mean."

Harry blinked, nonplussed. He had expected to have to stave off more platitudes, more careful sidestepping of his obvious upset.

"I wouldn't be here if you hadn't taught me to properly cast a curse," Neville wrung his hands nervously. "I really think we can be even better next year, you know?"

Harry stared at his fellow Gryffindor for a long moment. So long that Neville's hopeful smile started to fade. "Yeah," he said finally, softly, not quite sure he yet believed it. "Yeah, I think we can."

* * *

Link opened his eyes to a world awash in a deep orange glow. He tried to stand, to move forward, but slipped back down to the ground. Thin tremors ran though his hands, shocky with pain. Tiny arcs of it shot through his limbs and he spasmed. It was as though the very world itself were trying to attack him, to throw him back through the gate -

Link turned, but the gateway was nowhere to be seen. Just twilight and darkness and smooth stone pathways trailing off into a dimly lit city.

The hylian hissed as warm tingles shot through his body. The pain receded, beat back by a warm, holy light from the Master Sword.

"Halt!" a voice shouted, and Link turned. "W-who goes there?" The voice resolved into a stocky figure of pale blue and black, bright yellow eyes blinking in shock. The Twili - for what else could he be - clutched his spear with nerveless fingers. It fell to the stone floor with a clatter.

"Link, King of Hyrule," he called back, sheathing the Sword. He slid his wand into his pocket. "Did you see another come through here?"

The Twili shook his head. "N-no. Just you. Ah! But you shouldn't be here either! You light-worlders can't exist in the Twilight." The Twili was softer than hylians, Link noted. His features were all rounder, the joints and muscles less defined. But the expression of mixed wonder and fear stood out starkly on his face nonetheless.

"We can't?" Link asked, confused. He tried to think back but for some reason the only thing that came to mind were the words of a cat. _"...we animals can see. I'm glad... you aren't so dumb anymore,"_ it had said something along those lines.

The Twili shook his head rapidly, back and forth. "Oooh, what to do? Ah!" he squeaked again. "Come and see! Our king would love to meet you! ...probably..." he added that last in a tiny voice. Link's ears twitched.

He followed after the nervous being. Other Twili peered out of their homes as they passed, loud whispers drifting in and out of his ears. But whenever he turned to look, the residents ducked back, sliding under sills or around corners.

"Why is everyone so nervous?" Link asked. The hylian's voice sounded loud in the dusk and silenced the growing whispers. His guide jumped.

"L-like I said. You s-shouldn't be here. We haven't had any visitors in... well, ever. T-that I can recall," he stuttered.

It took perhaps an hour or so to reach the palace gates. The unlikely duo were let through after only a moment of deliberation, the guards quaking slightly as he passed. Link's lips quirked slightly at that. To live in a world so peaceful that a single outsider caused such a stir... it was sort of endearing. He wondered what such peace was like. Blue eyes darkened slightly at the thought. None of his lifetimes would ever know. Such was the curse of the Hero.

They approached the throne together, his guide stuttering out an introduction to the king resting on his throne. The Twilight King, unlike his citizens, bore a fiery mane and ruby eyes. Swirls and angles of bright blue traced up and down black robes, worn open to bare his chest. Sharp features stared down at the hylian.

Link bowed lightly, one ruler to another.

"Light-worlder," the king acknowledged. "I am King Medeas. How came you to the Twilight Realm?"

"An ancient gateway," Link got straight to the point. "It led from a tertiary plane - Earth - to here, and it is from here I hope to return to Hyrule. One of my companions fell through before me, but I have seen no sign of him."

Medeas raised a fiery brow. "Your friend will have succumbed to Twilight, light-worlder. Your kind become naught but spirits in our Realm." He rose from his throne, long-limbed and graceful, but Link was distracted again by the voice of the cat, repeating in his mind _"...we animals can see_." "But you have not. Why is this?"

The Master Sword pulsed at his back, its faint glow rising to a bright light in the corner of his eyes.

"I see," Medeas intoned before Link could utter a word. "Tales of that sword and its wielder have been passed through my family since time immemorial." The Twili stepped down from his throne, circling around Link to better see the Blade. "Prove you are the Hero of my peoples' memory, and I shall allow you to visit the only connection between our worlds I know of."

"The only one?" Link asked.

Medeas nodded. "Long ago a Mirror posed as the doorway between your world and mine, but it was shattered by our ancestor queen to protect us all. Though the door was broken, a lingering breach remains. Should you wish to leave, your only path lies there."

"And how may I prove to you I am the Hero?" Link asked, a touch more warily.

"My ancestor spoke fondly of a blue-eyed beast," Medeas smiled. "Become this beast, and I will admit you are he."

Din, Farore, Nayru, and _Hylia_ , Link swore. The Goddesses had indeed watched over him, guiding his steps home. "Very well," Link said aloud, backing a few paces from the king. He willed his form to change, incanting the spell he had practiced for months to perfect under his breath.

A heartbeat later he stood on four paws, a regal wolf that reached Medeas' chest. The Twili that had guided him to the palace shrieked and fled.

Medeas watched him go in amusement. "Then, Hero of Hyrule, I will permit you to see the site the Mirror once lay."

Link tilted his head questioningly, blue eyes peering up at the king. The graceful Twili smirked. "It is but right outside the Palace gate, my friend," he said in amusement, "at the opposite end of the courtyard."

Link cast him a deadpan look, as well as he was able while still a wolf.

Medeas laughed. "Fare thee well, Link of Hyrule. I thank you for breaking the monotony of this day." And with that the king returned to his throne, leaning comfortably on the carved stone.

 _"...animals can see..."_ the cat whispered again as Link loped out of the palace, startling the guards as into quiet shrieks he passed.

Can see what? Link growled softly to himself, casting his eyes about the courtyard. It was bare of any other souls, the Twili too intimidated by the beast to approach.

Souls. The Twili had said Sirius was a spirit, hadn't they? But he hadn't appeared like Zelda's father or the Champions had. So where was he?

The silver wolf padded around the courtyard, peering down the walkway he'd first come from. He supposed Medeas wouldn't mind if he took a little detour.

The trip back went much faster than their slow walk to the castle, long lupine legs eating up the ground. Link still saw no sign of the arch in any form. Neither did he see Sirius.

He loosed a curse in the form of a quiet growl. Where was Sirius? He had fallen right before Link had been drawn to the veil himself. The wizard had to be here.

Link stared out into the twilight, long enough that for a moment he thought dusk had started to become night. But no, it couldn't here. Twilight was everlasting in this realm. Focus broken, the darkness creeping at his periphery vanished.

Perhaps that was it. Link focus hard on the result he wanted, honing the wolf's senses. His vision tunneled, black edging at the corners of his eyes. And there! A pale green figure slowly resolved into a familiar wizard, garbed in navy blue robes.

 _"HELLO!"_ Sirius bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth. He sighed. "Where the hell is everyone?" he grumped. "What is this place? Dammit, I need to get back to Harry..."

He didn't seem to notice the massive wolf padding closer. Link stepped a hairsbreadth away and the man still didn't react.

Sirius couldn't see him. Link pressed closer, fur brushing against the man. Sirius startled, clearly able to feel him. Well that simplified things.

Link planted his teeth in the man's robes and pulled. Sirius nearly fell over as he was jerked forward, but the hylian-turned-wolf didn't let up. "Come on," he growled through a mouthful of cloth, not that anyone would have been able to understand him either way. "You can't stay here."

Sirius eventually gave up on freeing himself of the invisible grip, and Link managed to pull him all the way back to the courtyard before the Palace of Twilight. The wizard gawked at the massive structure.

Though the Sword had vanished with the rest of Link's belongings when he transformed, the hylian could still feel its presence. It pulsed warmly as they approached the edge of the courtyard, the stone stopping abruptly like the edge of a cliff. Nothing remained but the deep orange glow of dusk.

The Master Sword flared so warmly it burned, and Link doubled back, crouched down, and ran. Sirius let out a startled yelp as Link threaded under the wizard's legs, pushing up so the man was astride his back, and leapt from the edge of the courtyard.

Sirius screamed. Link panted out a lupine laugh.

The Master Sword pulsed warmly one final time as light swallowed them whole.

* * *

Sirius blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning at the thick heat bearing down on him like a physical weight. Massive rolling dunes of burning sand met his gaze.

"What the hell?" he moaned, pushing himself up. Sparse stone dotted his vision from where it peaked through endless sand. Upon closer inspection, the stone appeared to have once been part of some sort of structure; it was too regular, even in its weathered, aged state to be natural.

A section off to his right had been cordoned off, bright red ropes barring the way to deeper ruins where they'd been partially dug out.

"You're awake," a voice intoned, and Sirius spun around to see the strange little blond that had been hanging out with his godson all year.

"Where are we?" Sirius asked, glancing around, hoping to catch sight of someone else. Anyone, really, except perhaps Snape. No familiar faces popped out of the sand. There was no Order, no Lupin, no Harry. The dog animagus wilted slightly.

Link hummed. "Gerudo Desert," he said easily. "I know it doesn't look like much from here," he added, tossing Sirius a canteen. The wizard drank from it gratefully. "But wait until we catch a seal out." What?

"I'm sorry things happened this way," the elfin blond continued, undeterred by Sirius' confusion. "But..." he hesitated, then smiled.

"Welcome to Hyrule."

* * *

END


End file.
